From Russia with Love
by myshoesarecrocs
Summary: Emilia Hoffman was America's rising star in women's skating, but her time was cut short by the accident that killed both of her parents and left her crippled in a wheelchair. The doctors told her she would never skate again, but a chance encounter with the Ice Tiger of Russia leaves her determined to get back on the ice. Yuri Plisetsky/OC
1. Chapter 1

He could remember the sound of the crowd chanting his name, the sight of roses and other objects raining down on the ice around him. He was on his hands and knees, panting on the ice from the physical exhaustion of his free skate program, his arms trembling and just barely keeping him propped up. The blood pumping in his ears drowned out most of the noise, and for a moment he was convinced that he would pass out right there on the ice.

Summoning all of his strength, Yuri Plisetsky willed himself to his feet, raising his arms over his head to wave to the crowd. They were on their feet screaming, waving their arms wildly, some holding up signs and banners with his name plastered on them. Looking across the arena, he could see Yakov and Lilia, the latter wiping tears from her eyes. He knew he did good, and he couldn't help the feeling of pride in his chest at the sight of his coaches happy with him.

Taking one last glance around the arena, he was about to skate to his coaches, when his gaze passed over a figure in a wheelchair. It was a girl with silver hair that fell in a braid past her shoulders, and suddenly the roaring of the crowd was gone. She was staring at him, her violet eyes spilling tears down her face. Yuri had seen countless girls crying after his performances, but she was different. Her tears weren't those of joy, but of sorrow, and he found that he couldn't look away from her.

An invisible force willed him to go to her, and he started to step forward when Yakov shouted, "Yurochka!"

He jumped as the screaming of the crowd came back to him, and he gave her one last glance before skating to his coaches. They greeted him at the edge of the ice, Yakov helping put the covers on his blades. Lilia put her hands on his shoulders, "Now that is how you dance."

He was still trying to catch his breath waiting for his scores. When they finally came up announcing him in first place, he nearly passed out again. He always put in so much work, more than some of the other skaters at the Rostelecom Cup, and finally it was starting to pay off.

But he couldn't get the sight of that girl crying out of his mind. Why was she crying like that? The scores proved that he wasn't bad, so why?

He watched stupid Pork Cutlet Bowl Yuri skate and almost blow his chances at getting to the Grand Prix Final. He probably would have killed him if he didn't make it. It was supposedly his last year skating, and Yuri would rather die than not be able to beat that Japanese idiot.

He also had to endure dropping to second place and being chased around by Yuri, but finally the night came to a close. He would be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed in not getting first, but as he was leaving the arena, he was too exhausted to even care anymore. Groups of people waiting in the lobby rushed to their favorite skaters as they came out to greet them, and Yuri was stopped by a crowd of girls.

"Can we get a picture?" They asked, one of them holding up their phone.

He shoved his hands in his pocket, shaking his head to get the bangs out of his eyes, and muttered, "Yeah, sure."

They squealed, handing their phone to a middle aged woman who he assumed must have been one of their mothers, and gathered around him. He put his arms around the shoulders of a petite girl with long black hair that framed her face, and a bigger-framed girl with glasses.

"Say cheese!" The mother said.

"Cheese!" The girls cheered.

But as the picture got taken, Yuri caught sight of a wheelchair in the crowd heading toward the exit. He felt his eyes widen just as the flash went off, and he unwrapped himself from the group of giggling girls. He ran forward without thinking twice, and later he would remember the girls calling him back to take a better photo.

He didn't care at that moment, though, all he wanted was to catch up with that wheelchair. Pushing through the crowd, he called out, "Hey! Wheelchair!"

The wheelchair stopped, and a pair of violet eyes graced him, "Yuri Plisetsky?"

He stopped in front of the girl with silver hair, catching his breath from leaping over so many people, and pointed at her, "You were crying!" He shouted, drawing attention from the people around them.

The girl stared up at him with a shocked expression, "Excuse me?" The right side of her face was scarred, like it had been burned. It ran down her neck and disappeared underneath her hoodie. He hadn't seen it on the ice, but it didn't change the fact that she was one of the most beautiful girls he'd ever seen and he just wanted to know why she was crying.

"After my performance, you were crying." He frowned, "You looked so sad. Why were you sad? I got second place, so you couldn't have been crying because I did bad."

Her mouth opened slightly, and then she said, "You saw me?"

"Uh, yeah," He crossed his arms, "you were looking right at me."

"I didn't actually think you were looking at me though." She said, looking down at the floor, "I wasn't crying because you were bad."

"Then why?"

"I was crying because you did so good." She smiled, and tears formed in her eyes.

He froze. Was she going to cry again? As soon as the question passed through his mind, tears spilled from her eyes. He gasped and waved his hands in the air, "Oh no! Don't cry! I didn't mean to make you cry again!"

"This just in," Yuri looked over to see a cameraman and woman standing in front of them, "Yuri Plisetsky, second place winner at this year's Rostelecom Cup, has just made a fan break down in tears. It looks like the Russian Punk is back to his old habits."

He balled his fist and shook it at them, "I am not!" Quickly he looked down at her, "What did I do? Did I say something?"

She laughed, wiping her eyes, "No, you didn't do anything."

"Then why are you crying?"

"My name is Emilia Hoffman." She said, and Yuri swore he had heard that name before, "I'm an American skater, or at least I was." She motioned to the wheelchair.

"Emilia Hoffman." He repeated, "Where have I heard your name before?"

"I recently made some headlines." He saw her hands clench, "My parents and I got into a bad car accident. They died, I lived."

That's right, America's new and upcoming star in women's skating. She had only competed in a few professional competitions, taking all of them by storm at the age of sixteen. She was due to compete for the world championships next year, but her time had been cut short by a car accident. She and her parents had been driving home from a competition when a semi driver had fallen asleep and drifted into their lane. The doctors had said it was a miracle that she was still alive, the only reason being that she had been lying down in the back seat of her parents' car.

The camera man and news reporter rushed up to them, the woman shoving a microphone in her face, "Emilia! Emilia! Tell us how your recovery has been going. Will you ever return to skating? How do you feel about your team taking on a new skater just days after your accident?"

Emilia looked flustered, bunching the blanket covering her legs in her hands, "I-uh-"

"Look!" Yuri suddenly shouted, pointing toward the exit, "It's Victor, he's returned to coach Yuri!" So it was a small lie, big deal.

"What?" The reporter turned around, and Yuri grabbed Emilia's wheelchair and started running. He didn't stop until they were out of sight of the media, around the corner next to the bathrooms. People who were lingering around stared at them as Yuri came to a stop, "I think we'll be safe here."

"Thank you." She said, "I didn't think anyone here would recognize me or my name. I'm not even famous yet."

"You were getting there, though." Yuri leaned against the wall, "Even I've heard your name, and not just because of your accident. Now answer my question, why were you crying? It's been bugging the hell out of me all night."

She looked up at him, "I was crying because you're the skater I've looked up to since the first time I saw you. I've never seen you skate in person before. It made me so happy and sad at the same time."

His eyes widened. She looked up to him? Another skater actually looked up to _him_ , Yuri Plisetsky, and not Victor? "Why'd it make you sad?"

She looked down at her lap, "I just got done undergoing reconstructive surgery to fix my face. It was so scarred from the glass and fire that they weren't sure if they could actually fix it. The doctors told me I would be lucky if I could even walk again, never mind skating. I'll never skate again. I just watched my idol skate his best performance yet, and I'll never skate again."

Yuri pushed himself off the wall and crossed his arms, "So what, you're going to give up skating because you have a pair of bum legs?"

Emilia's eyes widened and she turned her head to look up at him.

He felt his blood boiling, "You're going to give up like that?"

"I..."

"You'll never skate again." He scoffed, and then shouted, "A true skater would never say stuff like that!" A group of girls turned their heads in their direction, holding up their phones. In the weeks to come, Yuri would realize that they were the start of it all.

Emilia was staring at him again, her mouth hanging open in surprise. He was right, she had given up, but what was she supposed to do when she could barely feel anything in her legs? She felt more tears coming to her eyes, trying anything to make them go away. Here her idol was, standing before her in all his glory, and she was crying. "I'm sorry." She said quietly, and he fell silent, "Things just seem so hopeless right now. I lost my parents and skating, basically my entire world is just gone." She smiled then, "That's why it was important to me to come to the Rostelecom Cup. I needed to see you skate so I wouldn't give up."

Yuri's face cleared, and somehow he looked younger. He shoved his hands into his pockets, seemingly calmer, "Why me?"

"What?"

"You keep saying you wanted to see me skate, that I'm your idol." He looked away from her, "But why? All anyone's ever cared about is Victor. When people talk about Russia, the only name that comes up is Victor, never Yuri. So why do you care?"

She smiled, "I remember the first time I saw you skate on TV. You fell down twice and your coach was so mad it looked like he was going to pass out. But you were so confident. You still held your head high even though you came in third. Even though you fell, I thought your free skate was amazing. It's what made me work harder as a skater. Victor never did that, you did."

His eyes widened.

The phone sitting in her lap started vibrating, and she looked at it, then him, "It's my uncle."

"You should take it." He said, still trying to process what she had said.

"Hello?" She answered, and he could hear a deep male voice on the other line, "Yeah, it just got done. JJ won, Yuri came in second." She paused for a moment as he spoke. "Yeah, I'm actually talking to him right now." Pause. "Seriously." She held out the phone, putting it on speaker, "Say hi."

"Yuri Plisetsky?" The male voice asked.

Yuri leaned closer to the phone, "Yeah, it's me."

"Wow, I had hoped she was able to see you skate, but actually meeting you-" He laughed, "I can only imagine the story I'll get when she gets home."

"Uncle!" Emilia groaned, "Can you not?"

"Sorry Emmy, someone has to embarrass you."

"It looks like your doing a good job." Yuri said, "Her face is all red."

She quickly took him off speaker, "Okay, Uncle I'm going now. My plane flies out tomorrow morning, so I'll see you soon." Pause, "Okay, I love you too." She pressed the red end button looked up at Yuri, "Well, thank you for listening to me ramble about my problems. You better go greet all your fans out there, I can hear girls screaming."

He grinned, "Yeah, they do that a lot."

"I'll be watching you at the Grand Prix Final."

"You'll be there?"

"No," She laughed, "my uncle could barely afford to get me here, but he made sure I was. I'll be watching on TV." She waited for a response, and when she didn't get one, she said, "See you later. Good luck, Yuri. I'll be cheering for you."

He watched her start to roll away, trying to think of something, anything, to say. "Emilia!" She turned her head to look back at him, "Just call me Emmy."

He crossed his arms, "Don't give up, Emmy. I want to be the one watching you skate someday."

She looked surprised, and then grinned, "I start physical therapy next week." With that she started rolling away. "Wait!" He shouted again, and this time when she turned around, he was jogging toward her. He handed her a slip of paper, refusing to look at her. She took it, starting to unfold it, "What is-"

"Don't open it!" He shouted, crumpling it up while it was still in her hand, "Don't open it till you leave."

"Oh, okay." She said, "Then you better let me go so I can see what it is."

"Yeah, whatever." He pulled his hood up, walking past her, "Later, Wheelchair."

Emmy watched him go, the fans who were still waiting for him in the lobby starting to scream when he came out. They rushed up to him, and he immediately started signing autographs. She laughed, deciding to open the paper even though he'd told her not to. It was the corner of a piece of loose leaf paper, a series of numbers were hastily written in pen. She felt herself blush as she realized it was his phone number. When she looked up at his place in front of his fans, he was already looking at her, his own face flaming red.

She waved and mouthed, 'Sorry!'

The girls that had been in the corner the whole time on their phones, were whispering to each other and giggling. Emmy looked over, and saw that they were gathered around one girl's phone watching something. She dismissed it as a video of one of the skaters from that night, rolling out of the hallway and past the mob of girls, and even some boys, who had gathered to see the Russian Punk. With one last glance at him, she rolled out of the center and toward the street where a handicapped taxi had been patiently waiting.

She never expected to see Yuri Plisetsky again. Maybe she would try texting the number he gave her, just to see if she'd get a reply, but she wouldn't hold her breath. He was a rising star with more fans than he actually knew, and she was just an American who had been defeated before the battle even started.

Little did she know that in the matter of a week, she would be the subject of a worldwide phenomenon.

 _ **Thank you everyone for reading my first chapter! I just love Yuri P and finally I broke down and decided to write this story, largely due to him blessing us all with a pony tail in this week's episode. It's been an idea floating around inside my head for a while, so here it goes! I promise chapters will be longer after this!**_

 _ **Please review and tell me what you think!**_


	2. Chapter 2

She remembered watching her mother from the back seat of the car. Her dark hair was pulled up into a tight bun, and she was talking excitedly about her performance that night. The way she was laying made it so that she couldn't see her father, but she could still hear his voice.

She said something to them. What was it again? Whatever it was made her mother turn around and smile, opening her mouth to say something back.

That was it. That was all she remembered before waking up in a hospital bed. The doctors told her she had been in a car accident.

That both of her parents were dead.

But that was impossible, she didn't remember being in an accident. An accident like that you would have to remember, right?

But then they showed her her face, burnt and charred on the left side and all the way down her neck to her chest. Apparently the fire had just reached her when the firefighters pulled her out of the car. And then she realized that she couldn't move her legs. And after that, her accident was trending on social media. She looked at the photos of her parents' car. It was so unrecognizable from the fire and the twisted metal that she still couldn't accept that it was theirs.

And then they told her she would never skate again.

Emilia sat at her uncle's kitchen table, pushing some scrambled eggs around her plate. Bradley Hoffman, her father's brother, had taken her in after the hospital released her. He told her not to worry about a thing, he would take care of her and her medical expenses. She shouldn't worry about any of it, because he was her uncle and he would take care of everything.

She lived there with him and her cousin Elise, who was three years younger than her. Brad had gotten divorced from Elise's mother, winning custody of her and moving to the city.

She sat there trying so hard to remember something about the accident, but she just couldn't. It was like there was a wall in her memory keeping her outside of her own thoughts.

"I know my cooking is bad, but you're looking at those eggs like they'll be the death of you."

Emmy looked up as her uncle entered the room, "Oh no, I'm just thinking is all."

"About the accident?" He asked, sitting down next to her. He was a big man, having been a professional muscle builder for years. He wasn't anything huge like some of those guys were, but he was definitely buff. He was balding on top, a thin line of white hair still holding on for dear life around the side of his head. It also covered his face in one of the nicest white beards Emmy had ever seen.

She nodded, "Yeah."

He patted her hand, "I know how hard it is for you, but I want you to know you can talk to me. I lost my brother too, so I can talk to you and know how you feel."

"I'm sorry," She tried to smile, "I know you lost dad, I'm trying not to act sad around you because I know you were close to him."

"Don't ever say sorry." He shook his head, "Now eat those eggs, they have lots of protein. I've been trying to think of the food I used to eat to build up muscle. You'll need all the help you can get if you want to skate again."

That was what she liked most about her uncle. He didn't even think about the fact that she might not be able to even walk again. It was out of the question. Whenever he talked about getting her back on her feet, it was about skating. He knew how much it meant to her.

She shoveled a spoonful into her mouth, "Yes sir!"

It had been three days since she'd gotten home from the Rostelecom cup, and she still couldn't stop thinking about it. Seeing all of her favorite skaters giving it their all had really boosted her morale since getting out of the hospital. None of the experiences there compared to meeting Yuri, though. The media was right when they said he was angry all the time, but he had been kind to her. He also said some things she really needed to hear.

 _"You won't skate again... A real skater would never say stuff like that!"_

He was right, and she wouldn't ever say anything like that again. She looked at the phone in her lap. She put his number in her contacts as soon as she was in the taxi, in fear that she would lose the piece of paper. That was as far as she'd gotten. She didn't know if she should text him, he was probably busy and she didn't want to annoy him. But she wanted to text him so badly.

Suddenly the front door burst open, and an out of breath Elise threw herself into the kitchen. She was lying on the floor panting, her backpack still strapped over her shoulders, "Emmy...you...need to...see this."

"Elise!" Brad shouted, "You're supposed to be at school already!"

"I was halfway there, when I saw this!" She picked herself up off the floor and slammed her phone down on the table in front of Emmy, "You're blowing up everywhere, Emmy!"

"I am?" She asked, looking at what was on the screen of Elise's phone.

"Yeah, some girls were taking a video of you and Yuri at the Rostelecom cup," Elise said excitedly, "they uploaded it with the caption, "Yuri's new Girlfriend?" QUESTION MARK, EMMY, QUESTION MARK!"

"They did not." Emmy clicked on the video, watching as she confessed to Yuri that he was her idol and basically the reason she was still living.

"Yeah! It didn't go viral until- you're going to die when I tell you this-" Elise took a deep breath, "Victor Nikiforov shared it on his Instagram. Yuri Katsuki, too."

"No." Emmy felt a pit form in her stomach.

"Yeah!" Elise said while laughing, "Victor captioned it "Biggest Ship of 2016". It has thousands of views from their Instagrams alone, not to mention the shares. People are saying you're Yuri's girlfriend."

"But I'm not!" Her face was suddenly warm, "I even said in the video that it was the first time I'd seen him skate in person."

"This is how Victor noticed Yuri Katsuki, maybe you'll end up being noticed by Plisetsky!" Elise screamed, "Maybe he'll come here like Victor went to Yuri's house!"

"I seriously doubt that, Elise." Emmy said, picking up her phone. She scrolled through her contacts to tap on Yuri's number. Quickly she typed out a message about what was happening. With a deep breath, she hit send, "Like Yuri Plisetsky would ever come here."

* * *

Yuri leaned against the practice rink with his leg stretched high in the air, scrolling through YouTube on his tablet. He had curiously typed Emmy's name into the search bar to see what would come up. When he clicked on the first video, he found that she was skating at a smaller competition. Her silver hair was pulled into an immaculate bun on top of her head, and she wore a sparkling purple dress that showed off her legs. She was gliding around the ice like she was floating, her jumps clean and precise. She made it look effortless, but Yuri knew the routine she was doing was tough. He clicked on another video of her in a red and black dress, her makeup done over the top. She reminded him of a phoenix. While the last dance was beautiful and elegant, this was full of passion and fire. Her movements were quick and sharp, but done with the precision of a professional.

She was beautiful.

"They say she choreographs her own routines."

Yuri looked back at Mila, who was brushing her red hair down from the pony tail she'd worn in practice. They had just gotten finished with practice that night and were the only two left in the rink. He quickly closed out of the routine he was watching and said, "So what?"

"You've done nothing but watch videos of her skating programs since the Rostelecom Cup." Mila smiled slyly, "If I didn't know better, I would think you have a little crush on her."

He dropped his leg down and stomped the floor, "Like hell I do! I was just curious to see if she was actually good or not."

She laughed, "Sure, okay. That doesn't change the fact that you've altered some of your movements to mirror the elegance of hers."

"No I didn't!" He looked away from her. After a moment, he tipped his head to the side, "So she choreographs her own programs?"

Mila rolled her eyes and laughed to herself, "You bet your bottom dollar. I saw her skate a couple times at the bigger competitions. She's damn good. Shame she might not be coming back." She eyed Yuri, who was trying to look like he wasn't interested, "Her routines aren't quite up to par with Victor's, but she still does pretty good with them. Maybe you should ask her to make you one."

He turned around, "Do you think she would?"

Mila shrugged, "Don't know, you'll have to ask. By the way," She held her phone up and smiled, "if she's not your girlfriend, you better tell people."

"What?"

"Some girls were taking a video of you at the Rostelecom Cup. The internet is calling you two a couple." Mila grinned, "Even Victor shared the video."

"What the hell?" He tore his phone out of his pocket, checking Victor's Instagram. There it was, a video of him and Emilia standing in the hallway. Her back was to the camera, but when he tapped on it, you could clearly hear her voice.

 _"Don't give up, Emmy. I want to be the one watching you skate someday."_ The group of girls that were taking the video gasped and whispered to each other, trying to muffle their excited giggles.

He groaned, "How many people have seen this."

"Thousands, probably millions thanks to Victor and Yuri." Mila shrugged, "At least two thousand thanks to me."

"Mila God damn it, take it off!"

"I didn't upload it."

"Mila, I swear-" His phone buzzed and it was a text from a number he'd never seen. He opened it, unsure of who it was, and the message said, _It's Emmy, did you see the internet?_

He frowned and typed out, _Yeah, what the hell right?_

"Is that her?"

Yuri jumped, Mila's head draped over his shoulder reading the message, "Can you not?"

"She's pretty, Yuri, maybe you should date her."

"Shut the hell up, Mila." He muttered.

"Admit it, you want her to help choreograph for you."

"It would be cool, sure." Another text came in, _Sorry if I caused you any problems._ "But she's all the way in America. And she's starting physical therapy next week."

Mila rubbed his shoulders, "The fact that you know she's starting physical therapy next week means she is more than just a fan to you."

 _It'll blow over in a couple days, don't worry about it._

He glared at her, "What would you know?"

"Your skating has been different since the Rostelecom Cup." Mila picked at her fingernail, "I thought it was because your confidence was boosted by your stellar performance, but..."

"But what?"

Her mischievous eyes caught his, "I'm beginning to think it was something else. Something with cool hair and a pretty face."

 _Ok good. How's the skating going?_

"Shut up."

 _Yakov wants to do a whole new program for the Grand Prix Final. So we need a choreographer._

She giggled, sauntering her way toward the exit, "You never denied it, Yuri."

He watched her go, cursing her as she did. He sighed, slipping his arms into his jacket and heading out as well. He shut the lights off and slammed the door shut, locking it behind him. Snow crunched under his feet as he slowly made his way to the apartments the other skaters shared. It was a cool night and his breath trailed up into the air above him.

Stupid Mila, what did she know about anything? Yuri didn't have time to worry about girls, he needed to keep his mind focused solely on skating if he was going to beat Yuri and Victor. If he didn't win at the Grand Prix Final, the media would go back to saying he would never compare to Victor. If they only knew how much effort he put in to prove them wrong.

But that was the problem. He worked day in and day out, pushing his body to the limit most days, and for what? He still wasn't any better than Victor and he got beat at his home competition. What was all the pain and sweat, the nights of treating the open blisters on his feet, the days he would pass out on the ice, the sleepless nights, for? For people to mock him? For the media to say he would never be as good as his senior? For Yakov to look at him like he wished it was Yuri who left and not Victor?

The phone in his pocket buzzed and he took it out to look at it. It was Emmy.

 _Isn't that short notice? You only have a month._

He pulled his other hand out of his pocket to type, _I can do it._

When he finally got back to his room, he threw the tablet down on his bed and stripped down to nothing. Putting on some music, he got into the shower and let the hot water warm his cool body. Letting the water run over his face, he thought about the weeks to come. Yakov was actively searching for the right choreographer for him, but none of them seemed to fit the bill.

That was when his mind wandered to Emmy. Did she really do her own choreography? Mila said she did, maybe he should ask. But he didn't want her to think that he wanted her to be his choreographer. But did he?

Turning off the water after cleaning himself, he toweled himself dry and shrugged into a pair of black sweatpants. Lying down in bed was the best feeling in the world, his aching muscles finally able to rest. Plugging his phone into its charger, he opened his Twitter account to see what going on with the world. Coincidentally, the first person to pop up on his feed was Emmy. He'd only followed her because she was a fellow skater, of course. It was the link to YouTube with the caption, "I'm going to skate to this someday". He clicked the link and it brought him to a song called "Don't let me Go" by someone named G-Eazy, Yuri had never heard of him. Putting his headphones in, he played it.

It was unlike any song for a program he'd ever heard. No one skates to rap songs, they were just not suitable for a story, but this song was different. It had a slow beat, but the chorus was climactic enough for skating, not to mention the woman's voice at the beginning. It was a sad story, and Yuri found himself hitting replay when it finished. The thought of skating to the song igniting millions of thoughts in his mind.

If Emmy could make a program from this song, he wanted to see it.

It was settled. He decided what he would be doing right then and there. Quickly pulling up his tablet, he searched for what he needed. Also sending a text to Mila, he asked her the favor he needed. Checking to see what time it would be in America, he made a phone call. Yakov might be angry with him, but if his plan worked out, he wouldn't be at the Grand Prix Final.

* * *

"Hey Emmy, can you braid my hair today?" Elise asked.

"Sure." Emilia sat in her wheelchair, finding that knitting was much more fun than it actually looked. She felt like an old woman as she sat and knitted a red scarf for the winter.

It was a Friday, and Elise was getting ready for school. They didn't live far from her middle school, so Elise got to sleep in until seven twenty in the morning. She'd gotten up early today to eat breakfast for once, and was sitting with Emmy when she asked to braid her hair.

"Where's Uncle Brad?" Emmy asked, moving her leg rests so she could get to Elise's hair easier.

"I don't know." She said, folding her legs, "He left really early this morning saying he had to go get something."

"Weird." Emmy twisted Elise's hair into a braid, "Where do you think he went?"

As soon as she asked, the door in the kitchen opened and her uncle shouted, "I'm home girls."

"Hi Dad," Elise called back, "where were you?"

"I was picking someone up." He said, pausing in the doorway to the living room. Emmy and Elise looked up at him questioningly, his grin stretching from ear to ear, "It was short notice, but I had to for Emmy's sake."

"For my sake?" She asked.

The door in the kitchen opened again, and this time she heard someone shouting, "Mila you asshole, you could help!"

A woman's voice answered, "You're the man, Yuri, you're supposed to carry the luggage."

Was that-?

Yuri Plisetsky rounded the corner, throwing several bags off his shoulders and onto the floor. Behind him, a woman with short red hair leaned against the doorway next to Brad. Emmy stared up at the Russian skater in complete and utter shock. He gasped for breath and pointed at her, shouting, "You're going to choreograph my programs for the Grand Prix Final!"

 _ **Usually I don't get to update stories this fast, but I had great positive feedback so here I am! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited this story so far!**_

 _ **Also as a friendly PSA, the actual Grand Prix Final is this week starting on Thursday!**_

 _ **Until next time.**_


	3. Chapter 3

Holy. Crap. Yuri Plisetsky was standing in her living room.

Emilia stared up at him in complete and utter shock. Her mind searched for the words to say, "I'm going to...what?"

Yuri folded his arms and repeated, "You're going to choreograph my programs for the Grand Prix Final."

"Me?" Emilia set the scarf she was knitting down on her lap, "But, why me?"

"Yuri's been obsessively watching all of the videos of you skating on YouTube, and he freaked out when I told him you made the routines yourself." The woman behind him said, "I'm Mila by the way."

"Can it, Mila!" Yuri shouted, "Your programs were top of the line."

"But they were for small competitions." Emmy said, "I never skated at worlds or anything."

"I saw you once at a national competition." Mila said from her spot next to Brad, "Your program was good. There's a reason you won every competition you entered. If you would have skated in world championships with those, you would have gotten to the Grand Prix Final no problem." She grinned, "Besides, Yuri won't take no for an answer."

"She's right, I came all the way to America and I won't leave without you." Yuri said, his arms still crossed.

"I...I don't want to be the reason you lose the Grand Prix Final. What if my choreography doesn't cut it?" Emmy asked, "My parents always helped me, I never did it completely by myself."

Yuri shrugged, "You'll be working with Yakov, you won't be by yourself."

"But I have to start physical therapy." Emmy said, trying to find an excuse.

"That's taken care of." Brad spoke up.

Mila also chimed in, "We have a great personal trainer for the team, he'll be taking care of you. We already contacted your physical trainer and she's faxing your paperwork over as we speak."

"So, you don't have an excuse." Yuri said, tapping his foot on the floor, "I wouldn't come all the way around the world if I didn't think you'd be capable of making me a good program. Especially traveling with Mila."

Mila glared at him.

"I-I don't know." Emmy said, staring down at the red scarf in her lap. She'd never done anything like this without her parents. Being around skating at the Rostelecom Cup without them was hard enough, getting back into the world of skating was something she didn't know if she could do so soon.

Elise made a shrieking noise and punched her arm, saying, "Say yes, you idiot! Yuri Plisetsky is literally standing in our living room and you don't know? The Junior world champion, Ice Tiger of Russia, your man crush for years is asking you to help him win his senior debut, and you _don't know_? I cannot physically believe you right now. Oh my god."

Emilia felt her face burning, and looked up at Yuri, who held out his hand to her. His face was determined, "I don't want anyone else to choreograph for me."

She sighed, and then took his hand, "Okay, I'll do it."

Yuri grinned, "Alright, we'll leave tomorrow morning then."

"Okay." Emilia breathed. This was actually happening. She was actually going to fly to Russia to choreograph a short and free skate program for Yuri Plisetsky, Junior World Champion of skating. She was going to be at the Grand Prix Final, watching all of her favorite skaters battle it out to be the best. What would her parents have said?

Yuri plopped down on the couch, kicking his feet up, "Now that that's settled, I'm beat."

Mila kicked his feet off, sitting down on the opposite side, "You're not the only one, I didn't even get to sleep after practice before you texted me."

"Would you shut up, I can't sleep with your voice shrieking at me."

It didn't take more than five minutes before both were passed out on the couch, Yuri with his hood pulled down over his eyes.

Emilia and Elise looked at them still in shock. It didn't seem real. Two world famous skaters sleeping on their couch? Not possible. But there they were, snoring away the silence.

Emmy looked over to Brad, who had sat down in the blue recliner, "How did they even get our number to call you?"

"Apparently Mila 'has contacts'. I don't want to know what that means." He said, "I hope you're not too angry with me. I knew if I told you what was happening you would say no. This way at least he would be face to face with you and it would be harder to say no."

"Emmy, this is huge." Elise clasped her hands together, "This will get your name back out in the skating world!"

"It's not really the idea I had in mind." She said quietly.

"I'm so excited for you. I wish I was going to the Grand Prix Final. Tell Yuri Katsuki I said hi." Elise giggled and then looked at the clock, "Oh, I better get going!"

"You never want to go to school." Brad commented.

She grinned, "But now I can tell my friends that Yuri and Mila are at my house!" Quickly snapping a picture of the pair to prove it, she took off running to school.

"That girl." Brad shook his head, "I need to be heading to work, too."

Emmy nodded, "At least I'll have company this time."

"I'll be home later." Brad stood up, smoothing his jeans, "And Elise and I will take you to the airport tomorrow."

"Okay, thanks Uncle Brad."

He left to go to work, leaving Emmy alone with Mila and Yuri. She wheeled herself into her room, and took a deep breath before opening her closet. Inside were all of her trophies and ribbons from various skating competitions. Her skates and dresses also hung from the rack. She hadn't looked at them since her accident, their sight bringing a tightness in her chest. She ran a hand over a sequined blue dress, the one she was planning on wearing at her next competition the week after the accident. Her mother had helped her pick it out, and she was going to surprise her with wearing it as she skated to her favorite song. The competition was on her birthday, so she was planning on dedicating the free skate to her, but it never happened.

Could she really get back into this world? She didn't have them there by her side anymore to help her along the way. She'd always took comfort in the fact that she had at least two people in the arena that would cheer for her no matter what. Now who would do that?

She grabbed the suitcase she'd always used for competitions and flopped it on the bed, filling it with as many clothes as she could. She would be in Russia for at least a month, so she tried packing her entire dresser. She made sure pants and shirts were equally balanced, getting nearly all of her clothes in the suitcase. She also packed her laptop and charger, and all of her bathroom necessities.

By the time she finished up, it was around noon. She didn't turn the TV on in case she woke Mila and Yuri, so she sat in front of the window and continued on knitting the scarf. It was around three o'clock in the afternoon when Yuri stirred on the couch. He sat up, pushing the hood off of his head.

Emmy turned her head toward him, "Good afternoon."

"What time is it?" He yawned.

"Three."

He grunted and swung his legs off of Mila's lap, standing up to stretch, "Where's a good place to get food?"

"There's a McDonald's down the street." She offered.

"Want to go get something?" He rubbed his eyes, "I'm starving."

"Sure." She said, and then glanced at the woman on the couch, "What about Mila?"

"She'll be fine." He waved her off, moving out of the way so Emmy could get past him. As she did, he grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and started pushing her, "Just tell me where to go."

"Thanks." She smiled up at him, "My uncle built a ramp by the kitchen door, you probably came up it when you got here."

Both slipped into their jackets and made their way outside, and Emmy ordered him to go left. They both walked briskly down the street, shivering from the cold. She was happy when the McDonald's sign came into view, and Yuri helped her inside the door. The smell of fried food assailed them, and Yuri's stomach growled, making Emmy laugh.

"I told you I was starving." He muttered.

"Well I believe you now." She said, rolling up to the counter with him.

The cashier smiled at them and asked, "Hi, how can I help you?"

"Can I get a number one with a soda, and an apple pie?" Yuri asked, "Oh, and throw in a cheeseburger. And a parfait."

Emmy looked up at him, "Jeez, where are you going to put all that?"

"In my stomach."

"Do you usually eat like this?"

He shrugged like he didn't know why she was asking, "Yeah?"

"I figured as a skater you would eat different. I always had to diet to keep myself into shape." Emmy said.

"Can I get you anything else?" The cashier asked.

Yuri glanced down at her, "What do you want?"

"I can get my own."

He rolled his eyes, "It's McDonald's, Emmy, I'm not gonna go broke."

She faced the cashier, "Just a snack wrap meal, crispy."

"Okay." The cashier said, and gave them the total.

Yuri handed her some money, and said, "To answer you from before, my metabolism is high so food isn't a problem. Probably because it all gets burned in practice."

The cashier handed him his change, glancing at him as she did, "What is your accent?"

He shoved it into his pocket and said, "It'sRussian."

"Wow, so you're from Russia?"

"St. Petersburg." He answered.

"So what brings you here?" She asked, leaning on the counter towards him. It was obvious she was trying to flirt.

He looked down at Emmy, "I came to find her."

The cashier glanced down at Emmy and then back at him, "Really? For what?"

"She's helping choreograph something for me." He said, taking their cups from her.

"Do you dance?"

"I skate for Russia."

"Wow, no kidding! I don't watch skating very much, but I might have to now." She smiled at him, "What's your name?"

"Yuri."

Emmy rolled her eyes and said, "Hey, Yuri, can you wheel me to the soda fountain?"

"Sure." He took hold of the wheelchair and pushed her away, leaving the cashier standing behind the counter. Once they got their sodas, Yuri went back for the food, and then they found a seat by the windows. Yuri dug in, and Emmy watched in fascination as he scarfed it all down. Was his stomach a black hole?

"So what is Russia like?" She asked.

"You've been there already, shouldn't you know?" He asked in between bites.

"I was only there for a couple days and it was only at the rink and my hotel." She bit into her snack wrap, "I didn't actually see much of it."

"Hmm." He thought about it, "I don't really know how to explain it. You just kind of have to go there with an open mind. You see a lot of strange stuff, so you have to just keep going and ignore it."

"Strange stuff?"

"I once saw a guy ride a llama down the street playing a banjo." Yuri elaborated, "That's not even the strangest thing."

"Should I bring something for Yakov?" She asked, "Like a peace offering or something?"

"Nah, he'll probably act angry but he's really probably not." Yuri finished the parfait he was eating, "Trust me, you'll know when he's angry."

She watched him push his blonde hair behind his ears, "What made you want me to choreograph for you? Besides watching my videos."

He took a drink of his soda, "I just had a feeling that you could do it. And I saw your tweet about wanting to skate to that song."

"Don't let me Go?" He'd listened to it?

He nodded, "I really liked it. I have no idea how you would skate to that song. It was so out of the ordinary, I've never heard of anyone skating to a song like that. So I thought that if you were confident in making a routine for it, you could make a routine for anything. A lot of the moves I saw you make weren't typical, they were different. It was refreshing, and I want to have that."

She listened to him carefully. It wasn't the answer she was expecting, which caught her off guard. It was because of that tweet? Did she really think outside of the box when it came to routines? She felt her stomach leap, "Do you have any songs in mind? Did you want to skate to Don't let me Go, because I kind of have something in mind for that one-"

"No." He interjected, his piercing eyes meeting hers, "You want to skate to that song some day, so you'll be the one skating to it, not me." Again, her stomach did flips. "As for a song, I don't have a preference. My music has always been chosen for me."

"But isn't there something that you want? A song that's personal?" She leaned forward, willing her blush away, "I always find that skating to a song that means something to you makes your performance better."

"Not really." Yuri shrugged, but his eyes gave away his lie.

"Are you sure?" She asked, trying to pry it out of him.

"Yeah, if there's a song that you think would be good, go for it. I can skate to anything."

They finished eating and made their way back to the house. Mila was sitting awkwardly on the couch when they came back, jumping up when they entered, "Where were you guys?"

"We went to get food." Yuri said.

"Thanks for inviting me!"

When Elise got home, she conveniently had two of her friends in tow. One was a black haired girl with glasses named Ashley, and the other was a red head with freckles named Maryanne. They gasped when they walked into the living room to see Yuri and Mila. They nervously approached Yuri with Ashley's phone gripped tightly in her hand, asking, "Um...can we get a picture with you? We watch your skating all the time with Elise. You're very good."

"Here." Mila held out her hand, "I'll take one for you."

They smiled and gathered around Yuri, who actually smiled for the picture. It made Emilia happy. They gasped when Mila gave it back to them, talking excitedly with each other. "I told you guys." Elise was saying as they marched off to her room, "I'm not a liar."

Soon after, Brad came home with pizza in hand. Ashley and Maryanne left, reluctantly saying goodbye to the Russian skaters. When they were gone, the five gathered around the kitchen table and dug into the pizza and breadsticks. Emmy wasn't as hungry after eating McDonald's, but Yuri was again downing the slices like he hadn't eaten in days.

"How was work?" Emmy asked Brad.

"It was decent." He said.

Mila swallowed the food in her mouth and asked, "What do you do?"

"I work as a foreman at a construction site." He explained, "I left a little early today since it's Friday and we have some pretty important guests."

"So you boss people around. Nice." Yuri approved.

"I suppose that's the short explanation." Brad laughed.

They finished supper and sat together for a while, before heading to bed. They had to be up by two in the morning to make their five o'clock flight. Yuri had bought round trip tickets for himself and Mila, also purchasing a one-way for Emmy. She said good night to Brad and Elise, rolling into the living room where Mila was settled on the couch and Yuri was getting a blanket for the recliner.

"You guys can have my bed," She offered, "I don't mind sleeping in the recliner."

"I'm already too comfy on this couch." Mila said, snuggling the blanket up to her chin.

"And I'm fine in the recliner." Yuri put a hand on his hip, "It's your bed."

"Can I ask you a favor?" She squinted one eye in embarrassment, "Can you help me get into bed? My legs have feeling but it's still hard to move them."

"Sure." Yuri followed her to her room and slid an arm under her shoulders. He helped her to her feet and then sat her down on her bed, picking her feet up to swing her legs further onto it. She settled back against her pillows and said, "Thanks, goodnight, Yuri."

"Night, Emmy." He said, and closed her door.

It didn't take her long to fall asleep, and it didn't take long for Brad to be shaking her back awake. She groaned, squinting up at him, "Is it two already?"

"Sure is, rise and shine kid." He said grinning, "I have eggs on the table. Yuri and Mila are already awake."

He helped her out of bed and retrieved the black hoodie and jeans she had folded on her dresser. She got dressed and lifted herself into her wheelchair, rolling out into the kitchen. Yuri and Mila sat at the table looking just as awake as she was. Emmy just finished eating when Elise plopped down, enthusiastically shoveling eggs into her mouth, "Good morning everyone!"

"Are you always this energetic?" Mila asked.

"Almost always."

"Can I have what you're having?" The red headed Russia groaned.

Brad took their plates, he and Yuri already having loaded the luggage into his SUV. When they were gathered outside getting into the vehicle, Yuri handed something to Emmy, "Here, you get to wear this now."

She held it up. It was the Russian National Team jacket, blue with white sleeves and red accents. It was slowly dawning on her that she was part of Team Russia, and the thrill of the thought of the ice coursed through her. She shrugged into it, matching Mila and Yuri, "It's too late to turn back now."

They rode to the airport in silence, and it took about an hour to get through all the gates. They sat together for another half hour before the announcement that their flight was boarding came over the loud speaker. Yuri and Mila stood, walking a distance away to let Emmy say goodbye to Brad and Elise.

Her cousin hugged her tightly, "Good luck, Emmy, I know you'll do great! I'll be watching the Grand Prix Final so don't mess up."

"Gee thanks." Emmy muttered, and then squeezed her, "See you later."

Elise let her go and was replaced by Brad, "I guess this is goodbye kiddo."

"Are you sure it's okay?" She whispered, "I'm leaving you with my medical bills. You shouldn't have to pay them while I'm not even here."

"Emmy." He put his hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes, "I wouldn't have brought them here or encouraged you to go if I didn't want you to. I know you want to skate more than anything again. This is your world, it's where you belong. You went through something terrible and I know you're hurting, you deserve to go and be happy again. Don't worry about your medical bills, your parents trusted me to take care of you and I will. This is what they would have wanted." He wiped a tear from her face and hugged her again, "They would have been so proud of you."

"You think so?" She asked.

"I know so." He let her go, pointing forward, "Now go win that boy a championship, kid."

Emmy wiped her eyes and smiled, "I'll do my best!"

"Good luck Emmy!" Elise called again, both she and Brad waving just before Emmy, Yuri, and Mila disappeared around the corner. They boarded the plane, and it wasn't until they were up in the air that Emmy truly realized that she was getting back into the world of skating.

Yuri sat next to her in the middle, and Mila next to the window. He turned his gaze down on her, asking, "You okay?"

She took a deep breath and smiled, "Yeah. Yuri?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm going to make sure you win the Grand Prix Final." She said, feeling the fire of determination finally ignite inside her. He looked away from her, not saying a word, but she saw the telltale sign of a smile on his lips.

 _ **Yeah, this chapter is a little dull but I promise that things will start picking up now! Thanks again for everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited, your words of encouragement really fuel me to write more. I'm super happy that you like my OC too!**_

 _ **Until next time!**_


	4. Chapter 4

As it turned out, Emmy did get to see Yakov's angry face. When Yuri had said that his coach was looking for a new choreographer for the Grand Prix Final, he had been telling a small lie. Okay, a big lie. Yakov had Lilia and he wasn't looking for anyone to replace her any time soon.

"Come on, coach, give her a chance!" Yuri crossed his arms, throwing his blond hair out of his face, "You haven't even met her."

"I don't need to!" Yakov growled, his face the color of a neon red sign, "Victor may have ignored a lot of what I told him, but at least he never went behind my back like this! This is too far."

"Give her a chance!"

"What's wrong with the choreography that Lilia made you?" Yakov asked, "You've been doing fine with it."  
"I've been getting second place with it." Yuri's frown deepened.

"And you think you can get first with that girl's? You think you can win the Grand Prix Final with a routine made by a sixteen year old girl?" Yakov pointed at Emmy, who was partially hidden behind Mila, thankfully so.

"Don't insult her." Yuri stepped protectively in front of Emmy, "I have complete faith in what she makes me."

Yakov pushed him out of the way, and Mila stepped aside to let him face Emmy. She met his burning gaze with her violet one, trying to come up with something to say. He crossed his arms, "Do you have a routine planned out already?"

Her stomach twisted into knots, "Well, it was short notice when he asked me, so I only have a few things I wrote down on the plane. Nothing is concrete yet, of course."

"Do you even know what strengths and weaknesses Yuri has?"

"I've watched every performance he's ever done. I have an idea of what they are, and I spoke to him about it a little on the plane." She wrung her hands together, "I'm sorry for intruding like this."

"Don't be sorry-" Yuri started, but Yakov cut him off. He stared down at her, still with his arms crossed, but his gaze was a little lighter, "Why should I let you choreograph for him?"

"What?" She asked.

"What makes you stand out as a choreographer so much that I should let you make a program for Yuri? As of right now, he's the pride of Russia in men's skating, are you skilled enough to make a program worthy enough of that?" Yakov asked, and Emmy felt a bead of sweat roll down her back.

She thought about it. Was she capable of doing it? Clenching her fists in her lap, she met his gaze and said, "I wouldn't have come here if I didn't believe I could do it. I'm in a foreign country where I don't know anyone, I'm completely out of my element here other than being around the ice. I'm willing to devote everything to this, to Yuri, and if you don't think I can do it," She frowned, "I'll prove you wrong."

Yuri smiled.

Yakov's lips also quirked, but he didn't smile, "I'll give you a chance to see what you come up with. If I don't like it, Yuri will skate the program he's supposed to skate and you will go home."

Emmy gulped, "That's only fair."

"And you," Yakov turned his frown on Mila, who stiffened, "I never thought you would go behind my back like this."

Mila held her hands behind her back, "I'm sorry, Yuri was just so excited. He's ever excited about anything, so I thought..."

"Don't let me catch you doing it again." Yakov said, and she nodded, "As for you, Yuri, you're the one who's telling Lilia about your escapade to America."

Yuri's face fell and he sighed, "Okay."

"Now get going with your warm up."

Emmy watched him and Mila retreat to the ice, rolling to the rink side. Great. That was a good start to her time in Russia. Yakov probably hated her at this point, Lilia most definitely would, and she didn't know anyone else other than Mila and Yuri. If she didn't come up with an adequate routine, she'd be sent packing, and her confidence in her skating would be ruined. She had to show Yakov that she was capable of creating something good enough for his skater.

She spent the entire practice watching Yuri and taking notes about his skating, trying to capture anything and everything she could about him to make something. He was good at jumps, and his step sequence was flawless, along with rotations. The question was, did she make something up beat and fiery, or soft and beautiful? Maybe something in between.

Whispering caught Emmy's attention, and she glanced to the right to see two children, a boy and girl, sitting on the bleachers. They were in the process of lacing their skates, and when she looked at them, they gasped and looked away from her. When they chanced a look back, she smiled at them and waved. The boy gulped and stood up, slowly making his way over to her. He said something in Russian, but she didn't understand. "Sorry, I only speak English."

His eyes widened, and then he said, "English?"

"Yes."

"Oh," He looked down and then dug his toe into the floor, "we were wondering, my friend and I, we were wondering about your face."

Emmy was surprised when he spoke flawless English, and then touched the scarred part of her face, "Oh this? I got burned."

"Burned?" He looked awe struck.

"Mm-hmm." She nodded, "But I'm okay now. It looks funny, doesn't it?"

"A little." He said, "But I think you look cool, too."

"Thank you." She chuckled, and then asked, "Do you skate?" pointing down at his skates.

He smiled, "Yeah! Valletta and I do every weekend. We come here to see the big skaters." He pointed at the girl behind him, who hid her face when Emmy looked.

"Like Yuri and Mila?"

"Yeah, we used to watch Victor too, but he left." The boy shrugged, "But we still like Yuri."

"What's your name?"

"Evgeny." He said proudly, "I'm going to be a famous skater someday like them." He pointed to the rink where Yakov was talking to Yuri. After a moment, he asked, "What's your name?"

"I'm Emilia, but my friends call me Emmy." She said.

"What are you doing?" He pointed to her notebook.

"I'm helping Yuri come up with a program for the Grand Prix Final, so I'm taking notes about his skating." Emmy explained.

"Wow, so you're friends with him?" Evgeny grinned, "That's so cool."

"Evgeny!" The little girl behind him, Valletta, called, "Let's go!"

"Coming!" He said, and then turned back to Emmy, "Good luck, Emmy, I know you can do it!"

"Thanks Evgeny." She said, and laughed to herself as he made his way to where Valletta stood impatiently waiting. They removed the covers from their skates and then took the ice, giggling as they did. She chuckled to herself, and then went back to watching Yuri.

As practiced wound down, Yakov bid them farewell as they cooled down. Yuri leaned on his elbows on the rink wall in front of Emmy, stretching his legs in the air, "See, that wasn't so bad."

"I can't believe you lied like that." She frowned, "I wanted to get off to a good start with Yakov, and that definitely did not happen."

"Don't worry about him." Yuri said, "He acts tough but he'll warm up to you after a while."

"I feel mortified." She muttered.

"You're being dramatic." He rested his chin in his palm, switching legs, "The one you have to worry about is Lilia."

"Gee thanks for making me feel better."

"I'll handle her, just worry about making a good program." He straightened, bending his hips forward and backward, and then glided to the entrance of the rink, "I'm starving, lets get some food." Emmy handed him his skate covers, and he sat down on the bleachers behind her to put them on, "Mila!" He shouted as he did, "Want to get some food?"

The red head appeared at the rink side out of nowhere, grinning, "You don't even have to ask!"

"Then get your shit together and let's go!"

Once Mila was ready, the three took off to find food. This gave Emmy a better chance to see what St. Petersburg had to offer. Mila was demanding that they go to her favorite restaurant, but Yuri was arguing that the food didn't taste good. She was only half listening though as she looked up at the buildings surrounding them. They were a lot different than the ones in the United States, both in their construction and appearance. They were a lot more beautiful.

"I would rather eat my left foot than the food at this place." Yuri said, snapping Emmy's attention back to the two Russians she was with.

"Stop being so dramatic, the food's good." Mila crossed her arms, "I'll even buy."

"Well, in that case."

In the matter of ten minutes, they were seated around a wooden table staring at menus at a restaurant whose name Emmy couldn't pronounce. She stared at the writing in the menus, wondering how on earth they cold read it. She glanced at Yuri, who was chewing on his lip and analyzing a section. She leaned toward him and said, "I have no idea what this says."

"Oh hell, I forgot." He put his menu down, "What do you like to eat?"

"I don't know."

"Just get what I get, you'll like it." Yuri said.

Mila glanced at him from over her menu, "I thought you didn't like the food here."

"I don't." He muttered.

When they got their food, Emmy found pierogies sitting on her plate. She grinned, "Oh, I love pierogies!"

They ate in silence before the waitress brought the check and Mila gave her her card. "So what's St. Petersburg like for you so far, Emmy?"

"I can't complain." She said, finishing her last pierogi, "It's very pretty."

"I can't wait till we get to the apartments! You'll need a room, so we can be roommates if you want!" She waved her fork enthusiastically.

"Sounds like torture to me." Yuri muttered.

"That would be great." Emmy said, ignoring Yuri, "I've never had many girl friends. The other women on my team were catty, and no one really got along because we were trying to beat each other in competitions."

Mila grinned, "Well you don't have to worry about me! I have a two bedroom suite, so I don't mind having you stay. I used to live with another girl, but we didn't get along so she moved out."

"Now you can move all of your stuff out of my room." Yuri said.

"I have two suitcases." Emmy rolled her eyes, "You act like I moved my entire house into your room."

"Yuri is kind of a primadonna." Mila muttered.

"Primadonna my ass!" Yuri shouted, drawing the attention from the people around them, "You're the primadonna."

"Can you take it down an octave?" Mila asked, "Your shrill voice tends to carry."

"Mila-!"

"Time to go!" Mila said with a smile, jumping up from her seat. She took hold of Emmy's wheelchair and guided her to the exit, a fuming Yuri following in their wake, "I can't wait to move your stuff in, we can even decorate your room!"

"Thanks, Mila." Emmy said.

They walked leisurely to the skaters' apartments, Mila chattering away about nothing in particular. Yuri looked like he was ready to keel over listening to her. Once back at the apartments, they helped move Emmy's suitcases into Mila's suite, and the red headed Russian started unpacking for her. Yuri sat on the bed with his legs crossed, watching curiously as the girls put away Emmy's clothes. He spotted something interesting in Emmy's suitcase, leaning down over the bed to pick it up. It was a pair of white skates with multicolored blades. Shades of blues, purples, greens, and golds shone back at him in the light, and he asked, "Were these the skates you wore in competition?"

Emmy turned her head toward him, eyeing the skates he held up, "Yeah, my parents custom ordered them."

"They're awesome." He said, grinning, "I always thought Victor's gold blades were cool, but these beat his by a thousand!"

Emmy smiled, "Thanks. I can't wait to put them back on."

Mila's phone started ringing, and she emerged from the closet with a grin plastered on her face, "Excuse me." She said, and then answered the phone with an enthusiastic, "Hey!"

Yuri mock gagged, "I bet that's a new boyfriend of hers."

"Does she have a lot?" Emmy asked, folding one of her shirts and placing it in the dresser next to her bed.

"She has a lot of guys that admire her, but she doesn't really go for any of them unless she thinks there could be a relationship out of it." Yuri said, "I like that about her."

"So about your program," Emmy positioned her wheelchair in front of him, "I still don't know what kind of song to use. Do you want something upbeat and strong, or slow and passionate?"

"Well, I was thinking of just going with Agape as my short program." Yuri leaned his head against the wall, "That one is slow, so maybe something crazy like your program with the red and black dress and overdone makeup."

"So something fiery and passionate?"

"Yeah, I think that would be a good ending to the Grand Prix Finals run." Yuri flopped down on the bed, "Like I said before, I don't have a preference on what song I skate to."

"You could use the one I skated to in that competition." She suggested, talking about the performance with the red and black dress, "I could add in some of the choreography from it and change the jumps and sequences to fit your style of skating."

"I did like that program." Yuri said, staring up at the ceiling, "It was strong too."

"I'll work on it then." She smiled, "I brought the notebook I planned all of my programs in, so it won't be hard switching things around."

"Can I ask you something weird without you laughing?" He asked.

"Of course."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, "Can you make me something more feminine?"

"More feminine?"

His face blushed pink, "Yeah, it looks okay when I do it. My body is small, and I'm years younger than the rest, so I pull it off well and it usually works in my favor. It's how I got the name the Russian Fairy."

"So you want me to plan you something I would skate to?" She asked.

"Basically."

"That'll make things a lot easier for me." Emmy said, giving him a smile.

"Cool." He sat up, brushing his hair out of his face, "I'm going to take a shower, see you later."

She waved goodbye, going back to folding her laundry. She heard Mila shout, "Yuri I have a date!" And then, "Mila get your grubby hands off me!" and she couldn't help but laugh. It all seemed surreal to her, being in Russia with the national skating team. She was roommates with the third ranked woman in world skating. It was crazy. Two days ago, she was eating breakfast at her uncle's kitchen table, and now she was unpacking her bags in St. Petersburg. She wished her parents could see her.

Mila came back to help her finish, and asked for her help getting ready for a date she had that night. It was with the singer of a rather popular band in Russia. She helped Emmy out of her wheelchair and onto the bed so she could have a more comfortable place. "Okay, what do you think?" Mila asked, "Should I wear red, or classic black?" She held up two dresses that were form fitting and seductive. They made Emmy blush.

She squinted her eyes and said, "I think the black one would look great, and besides, you can never go wrong with black."

"You're right." Mila nodded, stripping down to her bra and underwear, and then stepped into the dress. She pulled it off so well that it made Emmy a little jealous, she'd never be able to wear something like that.

"You look great." Emmy said, watching her spin around in the mirror.

"Good!" Mila put her hands on her hips and turned to look at her, "So when are you and Yuri going to go on a date?"

Emmy felt her face blaze red instantly, "When are we what?"

"Oh, come on, don't pretend you don't have a thing for him." Mila grinned, "I saw that video online, you had some pret-ty nice things to say about him."

"Th-that's because he's my idol." Emmy stammered, "I've looked up to him my whole career."

"Mm-hmm." Mila waggled her eyebrows, "I bet you guys will date. Actually, I know you will."

"Yeah right." Emmy looked down at the floor, "He's a world famous skater, I'm just...me."

Mila made a noise in her throat, "He came all the way to America for you, and he's watched all of your performances that are online. Yuri hardly takes an interest in anyone."

"He just wants a good choreographer." Emmy said.

"Keep telling yourself that." Mila muttered, "Well I'm off, wish me luck!"

"Good luck." Emmy laughed, sliding herself into her wheelchair. She went back to her room, looking around the space. It was homey and she liked that. She was still tired from the time difference, so she decided to change into her pajamas and climb into bed. The darkness and silence before bed was what she hated most. It was the time when all of her nightmares came to haunt her. Ever since losing her parents, she asked herself why she hadn't gone with them. Or better yet, why wasn't she the one who died instead of them? They didn't deserve it, all they'd ever done was try to make a better life for her. Maybe she didn't deserve it either, but if anyone had to die, it should have been her. Her parents deserved to be happy.

Truth be told, she'd thought about suicide in the hospital when she woke up. Her depression was worse then, right after finding out her parents were gone. She didn't know what she was going to do without them, so yeah, she'd thought about it. When her uncle came and visited her, when he'd told her everything was going to be fine, that was when she'd thrown suicide out the window. Her parents wouldn't want that for her. They'd spent their lives trying to make hers the best, so she wouldn't throw it away.

But not having them around anymore was hard. She'd gone from seeing them almost every waking minute to not at all. She didn't get anymore texts from her mother's number, no more calls from her father, nothing. They were completely erased from her life.

She buried her face in her pillow, feeling tears soak into it. She hated herself for crying so much, why couldn't she be a stronger person, one of the ones who put their emotions aside whenever they wanted? It wasn't fair.

Someone knocked on her door, "Emmy, you in there?"

It was Yuri.

She was half tempted not to answer, but instead she wiped her eyes and called, "Yeah."

He opened the door, his silhouette outlined in the door frame from the light in the living space. He paused and said, "Oh, are you sleeping?"

"No, I can't fall asleep." She sat up, squinting her eyes as he turned on the lights.

He also blinked, walking further into the room until he flopped down onto the bed. He was careful not to sit on her legs as he shimmied his way to sit against the wall, folding his arms, "Did Mila go on her stupid date?"

"Yeah, she seemed pretty excited." Emmy said, sniffing, "I hope it goes okay."

"Were you crying?"

She hid her face, "No, why?"

"Your eyes are red." He said quietly, "And your nose is stuffy."

"I'm fine."

"What's wrong?" He demanded.

"Nothing." She said, smiling, "I'm fine."

"Do you regret coming here?" He asked without looking at her.

"What?"

"Do you regret coming here to Russia?"

"No!" She sat up, causing him to look at her, "I don't at all!"

"Then why are you crying?"

"I just..." She crossed her arms, "I was just thinking about my parents again."

"Thinking about what?" He asked.

"Just about the accident." She said, "I know I should get over it, but it's just hard going from seeing them all the time to not at all. I try not to complain about it but..."

He flicked her forehead with his finger, "You idiot."

She put a hand on her forehead, "Ow, what was that for?"

"Don't ever feel sorry for complaining about it." There that look was again, the fiery one that came out with his passion, "You don't ever have to get over losing someone close to you. It's okay that you feel sad about it, it would be bad if you didn't."

"I just feel like I annoy people if I talk about it." She said, hugging one of her pillows.

"Well you won't annoy me." He said, closing his eyes, "If you ever want to talk about it, I'll listen. My parents abandoned me, so I kind of have an idea of what you're going through. I don't really feel sad about it so much as angry, but it still bugs me. My grandpa took me in, kind of like your uncle. Not a day goes by that I don't wonder why my parents left, especially now that I am who I am. But I think if they did try to come back...I don't think I'd let them."

That's right. Yuri's parents left him in the care of his grandfather. Their situations were different, but also the same. She leaned forward, "How did you get over it?"

He shrugged, "I was angry about it, so I focused all of my anger on skating."

That explained a lot.

She thought about it, "Then I should focus my grief on skating?"

"Not your grief." He said, finally opening his eyes to meet hers, "Your happiness."

"My happiness?"

"Yeah, your parents were happy watching you skate, right?" He asked, shifting his body so that he was facing her, "So be happy for them. When you think about skating, you should think about how happy it would have made your parents to see you out there. If they can't be here to be happy for you, you have to be happy for them."

"You're right." She said, tears falling down her face, "Thanks for that."

"So that means stop crying. You can't be happy when you're crying." He said, but he smiled. She nodded, reaching out to wrap her arms around his slim shoulders. It was one of those heat of the moment things, but she couldn't help it. For a moment she felt him hesitate, and she was about to let go when his arms closed around her. "Thank you." She said, closing her eyes to the warmth of his body. Inside her stomach, butterflies were going like crazy.

"You're welcome." His voice was quiet.

They let go of each other, and she asked, "So what did you come here for?"

"Hmm?"

"You came here to talk about something, I assume?"

"Oh," He shrugged, "not really. I was bored in my room so I came to talk."

"Well, I'm glad you did." She smiled, "I'll try not to cry so much."

"Good."

They sat and talked for a couple hours into the night about nothing in particular. She learned of his love for cats and animal print, something she didn't think of when it came to Yuri Plisetsky. It just came to show that he was human like everyone else. When Mila came back, she threw the door to Emmy's room open, yelling, "Emmy, guess what-oh!" She eyed them sitting on her bed and grinned, "Am I...interrupting?"

"Are you drunk again?" Yuri asked.

"Maybe."

"How'd your date go?" Emmy asked.

"Did you finally get laid so you can stop acting crazy all the time?" Yuri crossed his arms.

"For your information," Mila pointed a finger at him, "that is none of your business. But everything went great!"

"Good." Emmy said.

"Yuri, it's past your bedtime." Mila said, putting a hand on her hip, "Get going!"

"Yeah, yeah," Yuri slid off of Emmy's bed, glaring at Mila as she wrapped an arm around his shoulders, "Get off me you animal. Night, Wheelchair."

"Night."

"Yuri, ask Emmy on a date already." Mila's voice grew quieter as they shut the door to the room, and Emmy felt her cheeks turn pink even though they were gone.

"Shut the hell up, Mila!" He shouted.

"If you like her, you should tell her."

"I said shut up!"

Emmy laughed to herself, falling back against the pillows. What Yuri had said about her parents was something she didn't know she'd needed to hear. With a smile, she closed her eyes and snuggled the blankets up to her chin, drifting off to sleep. For the first time since she'd woken from her accident, her dreams weren't about her parents, but of a loud-mouth blonde with an angry voice and a kind heart.

 _ **You guys are the best, seriously! I love all of you for supporting my story as much as you have. It gives me more inspiration to write stories when I get good feedback! Sorry it took a bit to get this chapter out, it's finals week here in college, so I probably won't get another chapter out this week, but we'll see how it goes!**_

 _ **I promise there will be more skating in the next chapter!**_

 _ **Also, Riladell, you should totally write something about it! I'd love to read it and see what you come up with. I'm all about Yuri fanfics.**_

 _ **I hope you like this chapter, and I hope everyone copes well with the end of the season on Wednesday. I wish you all the best, here's to hoping Victor and Yuri get married and my Russian Punk wins gold!**_


	5. Chapter 5

"Yuri, could you help me with something?" Emmy asked quickly, as the blonde skated past her at the rink. They were there outside of practice, just the two of them, working on some of the choreography Emmy had. Yuri had agreed to skate what she had already written down, despite the fact that it was made for her and her style of skating. He'd said he wanted to have something more feminine while his body was still shaped the way it was, so he was skating her exact routine until she could accurately switch things around for him.

He turned around and put a hand on his hip, taking deep breaths, "What?"

She, too, was on the ice, Yuri having helped navigate her wheelchair out. Motioning to her legs, she said, "Could you help me move my legs?"

He arched an eyebrow, "Move your legs?"

"Yeah, they need to be moved around to keep the blood flowing. Otherwise, it's like they fall asleep and lose muscle faster." She explained, "I can only move them so far."

"Sure, I guess I can." He skated to her position at the side of the rink, kneeling down to grab her ankle, "So just move it straight?"

"Straight and up and down." She said, "Bend it a little too."

He did as she instructed, pausing when she winced, "Does that hurt?" He looked slightly worried, his hands holding her outstretched leg.

"A little, but it's because I haven't used them in a while." She smiled, "Don't worry about it, keep going, this is good for them."

"Did Mila say when the physical therapist was coming?"

"No, I don't think so." Emmy gripped the sides of her wheelchair harder as he stretched her other leg, "I just want to get back out here, you know?"

"Can you stand at all?" He asked, switching legs again.

"If I try really hard. I can still feel my legs somewhat, it's sort of like when your leg falls asleep and tingles, so you stand up to get rid of the tingly feeling and have to hold onto something because you can't feel it." Emmy explained, trying to come up with the best summary she could.

Yuri nodded, "I get it now."

"I think that's good." Emmy said about her legs, and he straightened, dusting off the ice shavings on his knees, "Let's keep going."

"Sure, we were working on a triple toe loop, right?" He asked, skating backwards to a more open part of the rink. It was public hours, so there were other people out and about, but most gave Yuri his space. They also sat in the bleachers just watching, some taking pictures, clapping occasionally when he landed a jump. Emmy wondered if they came here specifically to watch him, or if they were parents waiting for their children to get done skating for fun.

"Right." She said, holding up the video of her skating the routine, "As you can see, it leads right to the dramatic part of the song, so you'll have to land it at the perfect time."

He nodded, wiping his nose. Pushing himself forward, he skated in a wide circle to build up his momentum and then launched himself into the air. He came back down on the ice, landing the loop perfectly. She smiled, he really was amazing.

But he was frowning when he came out of the spin, and shook his head, "That was complete shit. Garbage."

She paused for a moment, trying to think of what was so bad about it, "It was?"

"My form was off."

"It looked pretty on to me."

"Well it wasn't." He snapped, skating in the wide circle again. She watched him do this three more times, jumping and landing a perfect triple toe loop only to swear at himself afterwards. After the fourth time, Emmy called his name and he turned his head in her direction.

"Maybe you should take a break." She said shrugging, "Pushing yourself to perfect something that's already perfected is only going to make you more angry."

"I just want to make sure I can land these."

"Yuri," She said his name sternly, causing him to give her his full attention, "I've watched you land these jumps time and time again. They're nothing new to you. All you have to do is learn how to sequence them with the song."

He sighed, dragging a hand through his ponytail, "I know, I guess I'm just trying to push myself because we have less than a month before the finals, and I'm not going to lose to that Japanese pig."

"Japanese pig? You mean Yuri Katsuki?" She asked.

"Don't even breath his name around me." He spat, "Just hearing it makes me want to puke."

"You really don't like him, do you?" She asked, leaning back against the back of her wheelchair.

"If he ever got ran over by a bus, I'd be the one driving it." He muttered.

She couldn't help but laugh, "Why do you hate him so much?"

"Because." He crossed his arms, gliding into a backwards circle.

"Is it because Victor became his coach and not yours?" She dared asking.

She could visibly see the vein in his forehead as he glared at her, "I'm not discussing this."

"Alright, we're not discussing this." She held up her hands defensively, hiding the smile from her face, "If you're not going to take a break, then try your toe loop again, Mr. Crabs."

"Watch yourself, Wheelchair." He muttered, jumping again.

She laughed to herself, checking the phone that was vibrating in her lap. Her uncle's name was flashing across the screen, and she eagerly answered it, "Hello?"

"Hey kid!" Her uncle's voice said on the other end.

"Emmy! How's it going?" Elise also chimed in, "How's Yuri?"

"Hey guys, everything's going great. Yuri's fine, he's practicing his toe loops right now." Emmy said, watching as Yuri came toward her, "He's throwing a tantrum." She threw in, meeting his gaze, and he held up his middle finger.

"Did you figure out a program for him yet?" Brad asked.

"Yeah," Emmy nodded to herself, "he's using my routine from Skate America last year. We're just changing up some of the jumps and sequences."

"Is he wearing the dress too?" Brad joked, and Elise screamed, "I would give my left arm to see Yuri in a dress!"

"No! He's not wearing the dress." Emmy rolled her eyes, "We haven't gotten to the costume yet. Getting the choreography down is a little important."

"It at least has to be red and black." Elise said, "Red is Russia's color anyway."

"I'll take it into consideration." Emmy muttered.

"Well, we're happy everything is going okay, Em." Brad said, "It's three in the morning here, but we wanted to call you anyway."

"Why didn't you wait until later?" She laughed.

"There's something about waking up at three a.m. to talk to someone in Russia that gave us a rush." Brad said, "We're eating ice cream."

"Yeah!" Elise shouted, "We're not even tired! Oh, you said you're at the rink right now, right?"

"Yeah, practicing."

"I can see you!" She said excitedly, "Someone is live tweeting pictures of you and Yuri right now! I can't understand what they say because they're in Russian, but there's lots of heart and smiley emojis and exclamation points. I'm guessing that means something good."

"Are you serious?" Emmy asked, looking around the arena to see if anyone was taking pictures of them. She couldn't see anyone, but that obviously didn't mean they weren't out there. "What kind of pictures?"

"Well, there's one where he's touching your leg?" Elise sounded confused, "I don't know what that's about, but it looks a little provocative."

"He was stretching my legs so the blood stays pumping." Emmy slapped her forehead, "What else?"

"Um," Elise paused as she scrolled through more, "there's one of him jumping and you're watching, one where he's talking to you with his arms crossed, and one where he's flipping you off."

Emmy glanced around again, that last one had only just happened. She cleared her throat, "Isn't there a translate option under the caption?"

"I don't see one." Elise said, "I don't see why you're upset about this. People ship you and Yuri, that's cool. There's even a fan page for you two. Your ship name is Yurilia, isn't that exciting!"

"Yurilia?" She asked, "Since when?"

"Since people found out you're in Russia. It's a big deal Emmy, you didn't know?" Elise asked, "This is huge! Girls everywhere either hate you or love you, but all of them want to be you."

"Can you sound more cliché?"

"It's the truth!"

"She's right, Em." Brad spoke up, "Someone asked me if I could get an autograph from you. You might not think so, but the skating world is in an uproar that you're helping coach him."

"I didn't think anyone cared that I came here." She threw her head back and groaned.

"Hey! Wheelchair!" Yuri shouted, making her pick her head up, "What's the deal?"

"I'll explain later." She muttered.

"Tell him I said hi!" Elise said.

"Elise says hi." Emmy relayed.

"Whatever, are we going to do anything else today?" He asked, crossing his arms.

"He says hi." Emmy told Elise, who screamed again, then, "I have to go, he's starting to yell."

Brad chuckled, "We'll talk to you later, Emmy. Good luck!"

"Love you guys." Emmy said, and then ended the call. She sighed, looking up at Yuri, "Okay, calm yourself, do you want to do anything else today?"

"Nah, I'm good for today." He said.

"Did those toe loops kick your butt?" She asked.

He took hold of the handles of her wheelchair, steering her across the ice, "No, I just don't feel like doing anymore."

"Okay, if you say so."

"You got something to say, Wheelchair?"

She tipped her head back to look up at him with a grin, "Did you know, our ship name is Yurilia?"

"The hell is a ship name?" He asked, glancing down at her.

"Elise just informed me that our practice today has been live tweeted." Emmy laughed, "And apparently there's a fan page dedicated to our 'relationship'."

"You're shitting me."

"Nope."

He glared at the empty space in front of him, "People have way too much damn time on their hands."

Emmy laughed again, sitting up straight, "You can say that again."

"Listen, I'm having supper tonight with my grandpa." He said as he was unlacing his skates, "You can come with if you want." He didn't look at her as he asked, and she could have sworn his cheeks were pink.

"I don't want to intrude."

He looked up finally, his face definitely blushed, "It's not a big deal, he always makes way too much food anyway, so then I have to take leftovers back for everyone else. I hate carrying the damn bags, so if you come I can hang them on your wheelchair for the walk back."

She arched an eyebrow, "I should have known that you wouldn't ask me there out of the kindness of your heart."

He sighed, "Way to make me sound like an asshole."

"I only said what you meant."

Standing, he slung his skates into the bag hanging from her wheelchair handles and slipped into his Russian National Team jacket, "Listen. I don't normally invite people to my grandpa's." He let his hair down out of the ponytail, shaking it until it covered his right eye, "He's sick, so usually having lots of people around makes him stressed out. I want him to meet you though."

"You do?"

"Yeah." He said, looking down at her smiling face, and then blushed again, "I mean, you're choreographing a program for me so..."

"When are we going?" She asked as he opened the door, and the cool winter air blew inside at them.

"Probably around five." He said, kicking it shut after successfully rolling her wheelchair over the door frame, "That's okay, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it'll give me time to shower."

"Cool."

Once they got back to the apartments, Yuri left her to call his grandfather and Emmy went to work more on his program. She had four hours until she had to leave, so around three until she had to get ready. An hour passed as she worked on the program, biting the end of her pen in frustration. She wished she could be at the rink to overlook the ice, it was always easier imagining things in her head there. Maybe she would do that after dinner at Yuri's grandpa's.

Another hour went by, and finally she set her work aside, leaning back in her chair to stare at the ceiling. She was a little nervous to meet Yuri's grandfather, if what he said was true and he was sick, she hoped having her there wouldn't make him nervous. She also hoped that he liked her. What if he didn't? Would that make Yuri look at her differently? Suddenly she was worried that it might happen. If Yuri didn't want her to choreograph anymore because his grandpa didn't like her, she didn't know what she would do. His opinion of her mattered a lot because she respected him. What if he stopped talking to her? She'd grown accustomed to joking with the Russian Punk, the thought of not talking to him anymore made an odd feeling rise in her chest. She didn't want to stop talking to him. Ever.

A knock at her door made her jump as she snapped out of her worries. Turning, she found Mila standing with her hand still on the door, "Hey, what are you doing?"

"I was just about to get ready to go to Yuri's grandpa's." Emmy said, swinging her wheelchair around, "Why?"

Mila blinked, "You're going to Yuri's grandpa's?"

"Yeah, for dinner."

"For dinner."

"Yeah."

"Yuri's grandpa's."

"...Yeah."

Mila gasped, throwing herself onto Emmy's bed, rolling so that she was on her stomach, "No way! He asked you to come to his grandpa's?"

"I've said yes for the past thirty seconds."

"Wow. He really likes you." Mila said with a grin, "He really really likes you."

Emmy shook her head, "It's just dinner. It's not like we're going on a date."

"No, you don't get it." Mila held up her hand, kicking her feet in the air behind her, "Yuri has never invited anyone to his grandpa's. The only time we've ever met him was when he came to practice or competitions. His grandpa means a lot to him, he's the single person that Yuri adores the most, and he invited you to meet that person."

"I don't think-"

"Emmy!" Mila lifted herself up on her hands, "He wants you to meet someone important to him, someone he's never brought anyone to meet before. This is huge! I have to tweet to Yurilia."

"You follow that?"

"Of course I follow it." Mila said like it was common sense, typing something out on her phone. She stopped after a moment, "Or maybe I shouldn't. It could ruin your chance to meet him if Yuri gets mad. I'll do it afterwards."

"What should I wear?"

"Nothing over the top, you don't want to look like you're trying too hard." Mila said rubbing her chin, "I think a nice shirt with a scarf would look good."

"Can you fix my hair for me?" Emmy asked, "I can't do my own even if my life depended on it."

"Sure thing!" Mila swung her legs around so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed, "Wow, I can't believe I'm helping you get ready for a date with Yuri!"

"Let me get in the shower and then I'm all yours."

In the end, Emmy was glad she handed herself over to the red-headed Russian. When she looked into the mirror, she almost didn't recognize her reflection staring back. Mila had left her silver hair down and curled it, pulling her bangs back on top of her head. Her makeup was also done nicely. While she couldn't cover the scarred side of Emmy's face, she surely made it look ten times better. At least she didn't look like a villain from batman.

"Wow, Mila." She breathed, touching her face, "Thank you. You worked wonders."

"Oh stop, you're a pretty girl Emmy, you just have to figure out how to put on makeup right." Mila said with a smile. Emmy wasn't sure if it was a compliment or insult.

"Wheelchair! You ready yet?"

They both turned toward the bedroom door where Yuri's voice had come from. With an excited face, Mila jumped and said, "We're in here."

"Uh, you're here?" Yuri directed to Mila as he came through the door, "Can I just go one day without having to-" He stopped talking when he saw Emmy, his eyes widening when he did.

"Doesn't she look good?"

"Yeah." Yuri breathed, and then caught himself, "Which means she couldn't have had your help."

"Whatever," Mila tossed her hair, "you still think she's pretty!" Both Emmy and Yuri's faces were blazing red as she skipped out of the room saying, "Have fun you two, don't do anything I wouldn't!"

"We won't even do anything you would do." Yuri muttered, and then looked awkwardly at Emmy, "Ready?"

"Yep." She said, rolling past him. He closed the door to her room, and they set off for his grandpa's house. They went in silence, Yuri pushing her wheelchair like he always did. After a moment, Emmy asked, "So what's your grandpa's name before I get there and don't know it?"

"His name is Nikolai." He said, "He said he was making pirozhkis." Yuri's face lit up, "My grandpa makes the best pirozhki in Russia!"

"Pirozhki?" She asked.

"It's like a meat stuffed bun." He said, "At least my grandpa puts meat in it. You don't have to, but it doesn't taste as good."

"Well I'm excited to try them." She clapped her gloved hands together, "Do you think he'll like me?"

"Why wouldn't he?"

"I don't know."

"Exactly, so don't worry about it."

But she was worrying about it. A lot.

They walked for a half hour before Yuri steered her past a gated fence and up to the door of a small yellow house. Light from the inside reflected on the pristine snow in the front yard, making it look nice and cozy. He paused at the front steps trying to figure out what to do. Emmy shimmied so that she was sitting on the edge of the wheelchair, "If you help me, I can sit on the steps while you lift that to the top."

"The steps are cold, though."

"Yuri, it's fine."

He frowned, but picked her up underneath her armpits, gently setting her back down on the top step. Effortlessly lifting the wheelchair onto the top step, he went back to get her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he lifted her up, trying to move her legs to help him. To her surprise, she was able to somewhat keep herself upright. "Okay," Yuri said, mostly to himself, "Now up." He stepped up onto the top step as he said 'up', stumbling a little as Emmy's weight carried them further forward. He caught himself on the shutters of the house with one arm, holding Emmy securely to his chest with the other. She gasped as they nearly fell, and then said, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He said with a sigh of relief, "You?"

"Yeah." She was about to laugh when she noticed how close together they were, how close together their _faces_ were. He must have noticed too, because he blushed and cleared his throat, gently setting her back down in the wheelchair. "Thanks." She said, knowing her face was just as red as his.

Turning his back toward her, he knocked on the door. After a moment, an old man with dark hair and a silvering beard answered the door. His face lit up as he saw Yuri, saying, "Yurachka! You made it!"

Yuri practically leapt into the man's arms, hugging him tightly, "Of course, I'd never miss a dinner with you, Grandpa!"

The old man's eyes landed on Emmy, and he unwrapped himself from Yuri's embrace. With a smile, he held out his hand and said, "You must be Emilia. I'm Nikolai Plisetsky, Yuri's grandfather."

Emmy shook it politely, "Please, just call me Emmy."

"Come in, come in," Nikolai said, ushering the two into his home. It was a small house, but it was enough for the single man. Emmy sat next to Yuri, who was sitting on the couch. She looked around curiously at the pictures on the mantle of Nikolai's imitation fireplace. From her spot, she could see that they were of him and Yuri at different stages of their lives. He looked so young and adorable.

Nikolai handed them a glass of water, smiling sheepishly, "It's all I have at the moment."

"That's okay, Grandpa." Yuri said, taking a drink of his water, "This is fine, right Emmy?"

"Yeah, I was really thirsty for water anyway." She agreed.

"So, Emilia," Nikolai leaned forward, "Yuri's told me a lot about you. He says you're working on his choreography for the Grand Prix Final."

"I am, yes." She nodded, "We started working on it today. Yuri's already gotten a lot of it down, so it's all mostly jumps and sequences we have to incorporate better."

"I think that's great." Nikolai said, "I think it'll benefit him having something created by someone so close to his age, _and_ someone as talented as yourself."

"Thank you." Emmy said, momentarily at a loss for words, "It means a lot to know someone has faith in me."

"I have faith in you." Yuri muttered.

Nikolai chuckled, "Even if Yurachka didn't win the Finals, I'd be happy with whatever place he comes in as long as he did his best."

"Well you don't have to worry about that." Yuri smiled, an innocent and pure smile as he looked at his grandpa, "I'm going to win gold for you, Grandpa."

Watching him interact with his grandfather made Emmy smile. It was a completely different side of him than she was used to, the soft, gentle, side that most people didn't think he had. It was refreshing, only adding to the butterflies in her stomach.

"Right, Emmy?" Yuri repeated, snapping her attention back to the conversation.

She blinked, "What?"

"We're starving from practice today, so we're ready for the pirozhkis." Yuri said, jumping up, "I can get them, Grandpa, don't worry about getting up."

"Thank you, Yurachka." Nikolai settled back down on the couch he was sitting on, "Make sure to turn the oven off when you take them out."

They both watched as Yuri made his way into the kitchen. It was when the door closed, that Nikolai said, "What will you do when the Finals are over?"

Emmy was about to answer, when she realized she didn't have one. She thought about it. What would she do? "I guess...I guess go back to America." She said, just realizing that she would have to after it was all over.

"You wouldn't stay to help Yuri next season?"

"I would love to." She looked through the opening between the living room and kitchen, at Yuri, who was sliding a pirozhki onto a plate. He must have touched the hot pan, because he made a face and flicked his hand before sticking his thumb in his mouth. "If he asked me to, I would."

"And if he doesn't?"

"I guess I would have to go then. I wouldn't be part of the team anymore, so I wouldn't have a place to stay."

Nikolai leaned forward, lowering his voice so Yuri wouldn't be able to hear no matter what, "Do you care for him?"

"Do I what?" She asked, his question catching her off guard.

He said it again, "Do you care for Yuri as a friend, or maybe even more?"

"Yeah, I suppose I do." She said absentmindedly.

"Please stay with him, Emilia." Nikolai's eyes were knowing, "I don't know how much time I have left with him. If I go, he won't have anyone left."

"What are you-?"

"He seems to like you a lot." Nikolai interrupted, "If something ever happens to me, I think you would be the only one who could comfort him. Will you promise me, that if anything happens, you'll be there for him?"

"Yeah, but," She met his gaze, "nothing's going to happen for a while right?"

Yuri pushed the door of the kitchen open, interrupting whatever Nikolai was going to say, juggling three plates in his arms. With a huge smile on his face, he set them on the coffee table, saying, "Well here they are!"

Emmy ate her pirozhki in silence, only half listening to the conversation between Yuri and Nikolai. What had he meant when he said 'If I go' or 'If something ever happens to me'? Was he really that sick? Shouldn't he tell Yuri if he thought he was so close to death?

But that would affect his skating. If Yuri knew his grandfather was dying, his skating would seriously suffer and he definitely wouldn't win the Grand Prix Final. She looked at the older man who was laughing at something Yuri was saying, suddenly wanting to cry. He wasn't going to tell Yuri how sick he actually was to save his career.

"Emmy, you look like your dog just died." Yuri said between a mouthful of food.

"Hmm?" She asked, realizing her face was mirroring her feelings. She smiled at him, eating the rest of her pirozhki, "Oh, sorry, I was just really deep in thought."

"Of what? Dead puppies?"

"No." She shot him a glare.

"Well cheer up!" He grinned, "You're eating my grandpa's pirozhkis, you can't be sad."

They finally finished eating, sitting with Nikolai for another half hour before Yuri decided it was time to leave. They said goodbye to Nikolai, who leaned down to hug Emmy, "Remember what I said. It would make me a lot more relieved to know you'd watch out for him."

"I will." Emmy said.

She watched him give Yuri a long hug, hoping that it wasn't the last one. The maneuvered down the steps, and then set off on their way home. It was long past dark now, the street lights the only thing lighting their way. Yuri was still smiling from his visit with his grandfather.

"Isn't he great?" He asked, still grinning.

"Yes, and his cooking is too." Emmy said.

Their breaths were trailing in the night air behind them as Yuri asked, "What did you talk about while I was in the kitchen? I couldn't hear you."

"Oh nothing really." She lied, "He just asked what the choreography was like."  
"Grandpa has always been a big part of my skating." Yuri said, "He tries to come to as many competitions as he can. It isn't the same without him being there."

"I can see that." She said, staring down at her hands.

"He liked you." Yuri added, "So you don't have to worry about that."

"Well thanks for bringing me." She looked up at him, "It meant a lot."

"It beats being in the same room as Mila all night."

He walked her to her room, wishing her a good night before retiring to his own room. Mila excitedly asked how everything went, and posted something about it on the Yurilia twitter page. It gathered fifty two hearts in the matter of minutes. She finally said good night to her, climbing into bed from her wheelchair.

She decided not to worry about what Nikolai had said, he probably only meant it for the distant future. Right?

Then something hit her.

They hadn't brought any leftovers home.

 _ **I KNOW I SAID I WASN'T GOING TO UPDATE FOR THE REST OF THE WEEK PROBABLY, BUT THE SEASON FINALE WAS TODAY AND I'M CRYING BECAUSE I'M SO HAPPY. ******SPOILERS: TURN BACK NOW IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT YET***** YURI WON GOLD! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT, I'M SO HAPPY! I CRIED IN THE MIDDLE OF MY CAMPUS COFFEE SHOP. NOT ONLY DID HE WIN GOLD, BUT HE BEAT BOTH OF VICTOR'S WORLD RECORDS. HE'S AMAZING.**_

 _ **So in honor of the Ice Tiger of Russia winning gold, here's a new chapter I wrote instead of studying. You're welcome. As I realize this is kind of a lame chapter, I wanted you to know that I just started writing the next chapter and am super excited about it. You should probably look forward to it, it'll be better than this one for sure. No sadness. Only happiness. I promise.**_

 _ **Until next time!**_


	6. Chapter 6

The program was killer, and Yuri hadn't even put his own personal touch on it yet. When the music ended and he was left staring up at the ceiling with his arm raised toward the heavens, he found himself thankful that it was finally done. It was everything he could do to get through it.

But when he looked across the rink, to the sectioned off room where Emmy was, it lit a fire inside of him. Technically the room was a small gym, complete with exercise equipment, but they had moved a bar set into it. It was where Emmy went for her physical therapy that she'd started the week before. She'd been bound and determined to start using the bar to help her walk by the end of the week, but at present, she was still working on standing without support.

Watching her work so hard made him want to work just as much, and in more ways than one. In the days since she had arrived in Russia, he found himself doing whatever he could to make her smile, because it was one of his favorite things. He also knew that the death of her parents still weighed heavily on her mental well-being, and you can't be sad when you're smiling...can you?

"Yuri, run it again." Yakov barked from his position at the side of the rink.

He sighed, slumping his shoulders, "Can I take a break for a second? I just ran it two times in a row."

"It'll build your stamina."

"Screw that." He wiped his mouth and skated to the side of the rink, "I have good stamina, but even Victor couldn't skate something like that so many times in a row."

"Victor didn't complain when I told him to."

"Well I'm not him, am I?" Yuri rested his arms on the wall, "So does this mean Emmy's program is good enough for you?"

"Even if it wasn't, you wouldn't take no for an answer." Yakov looked down at the ice, "You're more like Vitya than you think."

"Don't compare me to him." Yuri said quietly, stepping off of the ice, "I'm done today."

"What's with you, Yuri?" Yakov frowned, "You're usually the last one out of practice, and the finals are coming up."

"I just..." Yuri glanced over at Emmy who was holding onto the physical therapist's forearms and wobbling unsteadily. But she was smiling. "have a lot on my mind."

"Well get it figured out soon." Yakov muttered, "All of Russia is counting on you to win."

"Don't you think I know that?" He slipped his shoes on, throwing his skates over his shoulder, and started heading to the door.

"If it's that girl," Yakov called, making Yuri stop in his tracks, "you should distance yourself now. She'll only get in your way as a competitive skater. You might not think so now, but eventually you'll start skipping practices for her, and when you do that, you might as well say goodbye to skating. I'm serious, Yuri, as soon as the finals are done and her choreography is over, tell her goodbye."

"What do you know?" Yuri muttered, continuing on out the door.

"More than you think." Yakov said to himself.

Yuri was fuming as he stormed down the street. Stupid Yakov, what right did he have to lecture him? And to insult Emmy like that? She was the reason Yuri was even excited about the Grand Prix Finals anymore. Of course he'd been eager to beat Katsuki and prove to the world that he wasn't going to live in Victor's shadow anymore, but now he'd get to do that with Emmy by his side, with brand new choreography, and nothing was going to stop him. If anything, she was the one pushing him.

And like hell he would say goodbye to her after the finals! Yuri wouldn't deny that he didn't have many friends, something of his own doing, so he secretly clung to the ones he did have. Emmy was something different though. She was someone more important to him. It was silly to him. They'd only known each other for a couple weeks, but he found himself thinking about her at random times throughout the day. Every time he saw something exciting, he wanted to tell her about it. He would type texts to her, but delete them before sending because he didn't want to bother her. He just...wanted to be around her. But him being his stupid self had been avoiding her for the past couple days as he figured out what kind of feelings were going on inside of him.

His phone started vibrating in his hand, and he looked down. Emmy's name was flashing, and he felt a sharp feeling in his stomach. Pressing the green button, he put the phone to his ear and said, "Hey."

"Hi Yuri! Yakov said you left already?" Her voice sounded strange. Disappointed?

"Yeah, we had a fight. I couldn't stand to be around the bastard for another second." He spat.

"What'd you have a fight about?" She asked.

You. "Stupid shit like usual."

"Oh, well I was just seeing if you were still around so we could walk back together, but never mind."

He stopped, "I can come back."

"No it's okay, Mila's here saying something about getting lunch."

Yuri rolled his eyes, "She's going to get fat."

"See you later, Yuri!" Emmy said.

"Yeah, later."

Once back at his room, he plopped down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. It was decided, he was oddly falling for Emmy. Him. Yuri Plisetsky. He'd never even thought about dating before, and now here he was with a crush. Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around? Wasn't Emmy supposed to be crushing on him?

Eventually, something cold and wet pressed against his forehead, and his cat Plushenko licked him. Yuri smiled, gathering the cat into his arms and buried his face into his soft fur. With a sigh, he said, "What do I do, Plush?"

Plushenko meowed.

Yuri took his face away from him, smiling down at the cat, "I don't know either."

"He's been acting weird lately, don't you think?"

Emmy watched Mila shove half of a gyro in her mouth. She nodded, "Yeah, I feel like he's been avoiding me lately."

"I noticed." Mila leaned forward, "How long has it been since you guys last talked?"

"I called him today, but before that? Two days."

"What's his problem?" Mila frowned, "He used to come see you every day."

"I don't know." Emmy looked down at her plate, trying to calm her disappointment. She would not cry, not here, not in front of Mila. But she didn't understand why, suddenly after their visit with his grandfather, he'd stopped talking to her. Did his grandfather not like her? Had she done something wrong? "Was it something I did?"

"No." Mila said immediately, "It's just Yuri being Yuri."

"I haven't even been able to see him during practice." Emmy looked up at Mila, "How has he been doing? I feel like I should be there since I'm the choreographer."

Mila smiled, "He's doing really great, and don't beat yourself up over it. He knows you're working on yourself too. Besides, he knows the routine. You'll just have to sit in on a couple and tell him what he needs to work on."  
"Yeah, well, that's if he'd want to be in the same room as me." Emmy muttered.

"Don't worry about that." Mila smirked, "I'll whip him into shape."

It was nine at night when Mila kicked his door open and stormed into his room. Yuri shot up in bed in surprise, his headphones slipping off of his head, "What the hell-?"

She smacked the back of his head, saying, "Are you an idiot?"  
He opened his mouth.

She held up her hand, "You know what, don't answer that, I already know. I just got done consoling a hysterical Emmy."

His eyes widened, "Hysterical?"

"Yeah! And it's your fault!" Mila pointed a finger in his face. So maybe she was telling a small lie about the situation, Emmy wasn't hysterical, but if she wanted things to get resolved, she had to what she had to do.

"What do you mean by hysterical?" He asked, swinging his legs off the side of the bed.

"Crying, saying the reason why you won't talk to her is her fault, that she must have done something wrong, would you like me to continue?" Mila asked, putting a hand on her chin.

"She's crying?"

"Yep."

His eyes grew wider, and he looked like a hurt puppy. Or kitty? "I didn't...I didn't mean to..." He stood up, "She's not supposed to cry."

"Well she is." Mila switched spots with him, flopping down onto his bed, and scratched a purring Plushenko behind the ears, "You know, you have a girl who likes you for you, and not just a crazy fangirl who likes you because you're hot and famous. Why are you avoiding her?"

He didn't meet her eyes, "I was trying to..."

Mila saw the look in his eyes, the fondness, "You like her, right?"

This time he looked at her, "I...yeah."

Mila smiled and stood up, facing him to grip his shoulders. She gave him a little shake, "Then you don't avoid someone you like, doofus. That's how you mess things up."  
"Then what do I do?"

"You go tell her. She should be in her room."

"I can't tell her!" Yuri looked distraught, "No way, Mila. What if she says she doesn't like me? There's no coming back from that."

"I don't think you need to worry about that." Mila muttered, turning him around, "Now go!" He was barely able to grab his jacket before she shoved him out of his room, locking the door behind him.

That woman, always mettling in his business. He sighed, deciding to find Emmy just to apologize. His feet carried him to the suite she and Mila shared, and his hand knocked on her door, but it didn't seem like he was actually doing it.

There wasn't an answer when he knocked, and he was afraid she was ignoring him. "Emmy, it's me, can we talk?"

No answer. He tested the handle, it was unlocked.

"I'm coming in." He called, pushing the door open. She really wasn't there. The bed was nicely made, not a speck of clothing on the floor, just the way she always kept it. It was a stark contrast to his own room.

Great. He was locked out of his room, and the person he wanted to find was nowhere to be found. Now what? He slammed the door to her room shut and stormed down the hall and outside into the freezing street. It was lightly snowing, and he folded his arms against his chest to keep what little warmth he had left. Pulling his hood up, he set off to the only place he knew to go to.

The lights were still on in the rink, unusual since the custodian usually left at eight o'clock. Maybe he was still there smoothing the ice. Whatever the case, the front door was still locked, so Yuri fished the key out of his pocket and went in.

Music was playing on the overhead speakers as he came inside. He didn't recognize the song, but it was nice. Pausing at his locker to get his older skates, he strapped them to his feet and clanked into the arena. The first thing he noticed was the wheelchair in the middle of the rink, and then the person lying motionless on the ice.

With a start, he realized who it was. "Emmy!" He shouted, quickly removing the covers on his skates, and rushed onto the ice. To his relief, she sat up abruptly, turning to him in surprise.

"Yuri?"

He slid to a stop next to her, dropping to his knees, "Are you alright? Did you fall?"

She shook her head, "No, I'm just laying here."

"You're just...laying here?" He asked, utterly confused.

"Yeah." She smiled, "It calms me down and makes me feel better."

He shifted so that he sat cross legged, "Isn't it cold?"

"Yeah, but I don't mind." She looked up at the lights, "It makes me feel better being on the ice."

"How'd you get in here? The door was locked."

She cocked her head, "The maintenance guy let me stay as long as I turned off the lights when I left." She fished a set of keys out of her pocket, "I'm supposed to lock the front door and put the keys in the dropbox outside."

Yuri nodded, and then started the dreaded conversation, "Mila said you were being hysterical."

Emmy laughed, "Hysterical? Of what?"

"I've been avoiding you." He said, voice quiet, "I know I have, and I'm sorry."

Emmy didn't say anything for a moment, and then, "Well I'd hardly say I was hysterical. I didn't even cry."

That was a relief. "Good. I don't like it when you cry."

"Why have you been avoiding me, anyway?" She smiled at him, but he could see the reserve.

He scratched the ice with his fingernail, "I just have a lot on my mind. There's a lot of pressure riding on me right now, and I guess I just needed some time to think about it all."

"I understand that." She said quietly.

He grit his teeth, "My problems probably sound so insignificant to yours."

"No." She side glanced at him, "Just because I have crazy problems, doesn't mean yours aren't important. You're representing an entire country, that's huge."

"Do you think I can do it?"

"Who are you?"

He looked at her, "What?"

She sat up, leaning back on her arms, "Who are you?"

"Yuri."

"Yuri what?"

"Yuri Plisetsky?"

"Exactly. You're Yuri Plisetsky, the Ice Tiger of Russia! Can you do it? Hell yeah, you can do it. You're entire country is backing you, they're all cheering for you. You have Mila, and Yakov. Not to mention all the people from other countries." Emmy smiled, "And you have me. I'll be right there with you."

He smiled finally, "You're right. And you know...I'll be there for you too. When you skate again, I'll be there watching."

"If I skate again, I don't know."

"What do you mean?"

She looked down at the ice, "I still can't stand on my own, I'm getting better at it, but I was hoping to be able to have walking poles by the Grand Prix Final."

"It's only been a couple months, give it some time."

"I just want to skate again. I just want that feeling." She looked up at the lights, "The feeling of every eye in the room on me. To think that maybe I'm making someone happy."

Yuri suddenly had an idea, and he got to his feet and stretched. Emmy watched in silence. Finally he cleared his throat and held a hand out to her. She looked at it, and then up at him, "What?"

"Take my hand."

She did as he told, and he pulled her to her feet. She clung to him, and he held her under her arms to steady her, "You good?"

She stared at him as she held his shoulders, the warmth of his body easing her chilled one. "Okay now what?"

He gently set her down in her wheelchair, and the knelt down in front of her with his back to her, "Climb on."

"What?" She laughed.

"Get on my back."

She leaned forward and slumped onto his back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He gripped her legs behind her knees and rose to his feet with Emmy clinging to him. She was surprisingly light, like a toddler. He twisted his head and looked up at her, "You good?"

"Yeah, but..." She grinned, "What are we doing?"

"Wait for it." He said, waiting for the current song to end. When it finally did, a song he recognized from one of Mila's practice warm up's came on. He was pretty sure it was called The Night is Still Young, and he knew for sure it was by the United States' Niki Minaj.

He skated forward slowly, just to get a feel for the ice with someone on his back and no available arms for balance. Finally he picked up the pace, and they glided across the rink, weaving around and twirling in circles. Emmy had sucked in a breath when they started, but he was too concentrated on not dropping her or falling to see if she was enjoying it.

But when the chorus started and he skated in a backwards circle, she was laughing. Her breath tickled his ear, and he couldn't help but smile, "How is it?"

"It's like I'm skating!" She said, raising an arm above her head, "It's like I'm skating!"

When the song ended, Yuri gently set her back in her wheelchair, but she didn't let go of his forearms. She looked up at him, "Will you help me up for a second?"

He nodded, and picked her up underneath her armpits. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and when he thought she was supposed to let go, she didn't. She held him delicately for what seemed like a long time, before saying, "That was the greatest thing anyone's done for me since the accident. Thank you, Yuri."

He smiled, helping her back down into the wheelchair. She wiped her eyes, and suddenly he was worried that he made her sad again. He felt that it was all to easy to do. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She laughed, "Once again, you've made me so happy I cried."

"Want to go back to the apartments?"

"Sure."

With that, that one simple gesture, Emilia felt the rush again. _The rush of skating. I'll be there for you too. When you skate again, I'll be there watching._

 _Okay, Yuri. I'll hold you to that._ She thought with a smile.

 _ **I'm back! Sorry for the delay, I've been super busy at the Sheriff's Office! I got stuck there two nights ago because of a snow storm. My shifts are 12 hours, so I was literally there for 24 hours before the roads were plowed enough for my car.**_

 _ **So the dispatch center has been largely the reason I haven't updated. But I had a day off today so here we are!**_

 _ **I hope this makes up for the long wait. I go back to college next weekend, so I'll be able to update more then.**_

 _ **And yes, I realized that Yuri only beat one of Victor's records. My mind told me that since he beat Katsuki, he beat both records, but I was mistaken and I realize this now.**_

 _ **Also sorry if Yuri is OOC, I just wanted him to show his softer side to Emmy. Hope no one has hard feelings about it. :(**_

 _ **Until next time!**_


	7. Chapter 7

"What am I supposed to pack?" Emmy asked, glancing at her luggage she'd thrown on her floor.

Mila, who had pulled all of her belongings into Emmy's room, glanced up and said, "Well, you'll want enough clothes for the entire week, and then you'll need your team gear, and a nice dress for the banquet."

It was the day before they traveled to Barcelona for the Grand Prix Final, and the two were hard at work packing the necessities. Yuri was still at the rink trying to get in a last minute practice. The night before, Emmy finally got to see his interpretation of her choreography, and it wasn't disappointing. It was beautiful, but not what she pictured. In a way, it was better than what she'd imagined it would look like, his own personal touch adding to the beauty of it. She had also made some headway in her physical therapy, but only with Yuri sitting in the practice room with her.

"Check, check, and check." Emmy said, ticking off her fingers, "I think I should be good."

"Are you excited?" Mila asked, sitting on her suitcase so that she could zip it, "Barcelona is a romantic place, I've heard."

"Oh?"

"Mhm, you and Yuri should check out the city while we're there."

Emmy's face turned red and she pointed to the suitcase in front of her, "Can you take that into the main room, please?"

"Sure thing." Mila picked it up and carried both of their luggage into the main room. In total, Emmy had two suitcases, which was overshadowed by Mila's six.

"What exactly is in all of those?" Emmy asked, "How much stuff do you need?"

"A girl always brings all of the necessities." Mila winked, "I don't remember what's in all of them, but I know it must be things I need!"

There was a knock at the door, and Yuri poked his head in, "Can I come in?"

"Yuri!" Mila put him in a headlock hug, "How'd the last practice routine in Russia go?"

"About as good as I'm going to get it, I think." He groweled, gently punching her in the stomach. Once he was free, he sat down in the beanbag chair next to Emmy, his shoulders slumping forward.

"Are you okay?" Emmy asked.

"Yeah, just tired." Yuri said, "I haven't been sleeping well lately. The stress is starting to set in."

Mila slapped his back, "Well buck up, champ! You can sleep when you're dead!"

" _You're_ going to be dead if you keep hitting me, ugly!" Yuri snapped.

Mila folded her arms, "Ugly? You're the one talking."

"I swear-"

"Have you seen the new news about you two lately?" Mila cut off his sentence, making him fume even more, "Yuri's fan page is going wild about seeing you together this week. Apparently they're going to be keeping an eye on Emmy to see if she's good enough to be with their sweet little kitten."

"Great." Emmy muttered.

"'Sweet little kitten'?" Yuri rolled his eyes, flopping back in the bean bag chair, "We're not even dating so they can fuck off."

"You shouldn't treat your fans like that, Yuri." Mila inspected another nail, "Maybe you should date, then, so your fans aren't doing all that for nothing."

"Maybe you should shut your fat mouth, Mila!"

"You're just mad because I'm right."

"Right about what?"

"Exactly."

"I'm confused." Emmy said quietly.

"Anyway, Yakov wanted to see all of us before tomorrow. That's why I came here." Yuri said, his cheeks a tinge of pink, "We're supposed to meet him and Lilia at their house for supper."

"When?" Emmy asked.

"Six, so we have a couple hours." Yuri said, "I was wondering if you wanted to go for a walk while we wait." He was looking at Emmy.

She smiled, "Sure!"

They left Mila as soon as Emmy put on her jacket and tucked her silver hair into a black hat. Yuri navigated her to the street, and she looked up at him, "Where do you want to go?"

"There's a candy shop not far from here that I've been wanting to go to since the Rostelecom Cup. Yakov doesn't let me go there much because he doesn't want me to eat too much candy, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him, right?"

Emmy grinned, "Oh yeah." They started on their way, and she asked, "Are you excited for the Grand Prix Final?"

"Of course." He said, "I'm going to wipe all those talentless pigs off the grid."

Emmy smiled to herself, "I believe you."

"How about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, are you excited to go?"

"Definitely. I can't wait to see you out there." She bent her head backwards to look up at him, "Even if you blow it, which you won't, I'll still be cheering for you."

"Thanks for the boost of confidence." He muttered.

"I think the real thing you have to worry about is your fans." Emmy said.

"Likewise, sounds like they're going to be keeping a close eye on you."

"I feel honored."

She saw him point and his face lit up as he said, "There, there's the candy shop!" They waited for the crosswalk to turn before he pushed her across the street, and then then entered the two story brick building, whose windows were filled with glass jars of candy.

The smell inside was sweet, much as you would expect from a candy store. The walls and shelves were filled with an assortment of all different kinds of candy, from sweet to sour, hard and soft. She looked up at Yuri, "So what kind is good?"

"Ah, Yuri, you're back!" They looked to the front of the room, where an elderly man stood behind a wooden counter. He wattled around it and came toward them, hugging Yuri tightly, "I haven't seen you in a while!"

"Hey old man," Yuri patted his back, "you know how Yakov is. 'No sweets'."

"So you snuck over here." The man said with a grin, "That's why I like you." He glanced at Emmy, and then back to Yuri, "Who is this lovely woman?"

"I'm Emilia." She said, holding out her hand, which he shook, "But you can call me Emmy."

"She's a friend of mine." Yuri said, "She actually choreographed by free skate program for the Grand Prix Final."

"Really?" The old man rose his grey eyebrows, "What is that accent?"

"American." She said.

"Thought so." He smiled, "Well take what you like on the house! It's a good luck present for your competition."

Yuri smiled, "Thanks old man."

"That's really nice of him." Emmy said, watching him go back to the counter and disappear through a doorway.

"He's always been like that." Yuri opened the lid of a jar with what looked like yellow jawbreakers, placing them into a bag, "He's like my second Grandpa. You want any candy?"

"I'll just have some of yours." She said with a grin.

Yuri filled his bag full, and then they called goodbye to the old man, who waved and wished Yuri good luck. Once back out on the street, Yuri placed the bag in Emmy's lap, saying, "Okay, now I want a shake. You want one?"

"I'm not going to pass up a shake." She said, shrugging.

They went up the street further, and Yuri steered them into a small restaurant. Once the shakes were in their possession, Yuri with chocolate, Emmy with strawberry, he told her that they should go to one of his favorite places. He didn't tell her where it was until they reached a building with a high bell tower.

"My grandpa used to take me up here." Yuri said in the elevator, "We can't go all the way to the top because of your wheelchair, but we can still go pretty high."

Once the elevator stopped, he rolled her into a large open space that looked out over the city. The air was still pretty cold, but it was the warmest it had been in a while. They sat at one of the ledges, drinking their shakes in silence. It was a comfortable silence, though, because Emmy didn't need to talk to Yuri to be happy around him. Just being with him was enough.

"Thanks for coming with." Yuri said after a while, "I do this before every competition. It's sort of like a superstitious thing. It's nice to have company."

"It was fun." Emmy said, looking over at him, "I like spending time with you."

"You do?"

She looked away, "Yeah, I really do."

"It's nice not to be alone." He said, looking up at the darkening sky, at the stars just starting to peak out, "Truth be told, I talk a big talk."

Emmy rose her eyebrows, "You? No."

His lips quirked as he glanced down at her, "Shut up."

"Everyone talks a big talk." Emmy said, "It all depends on whether or not you can back it up."

"I think I can, but the stress is starting to set in. I drilled it in my head that I'm the best, but," He paused, "there are good skaters at this thing. Even that Japanese pig is good this year."

"I think you're being hard on yourself." She took a drink of her shake, "You're an amazing skater, Yuri, don't forget that."

He sighed, "I guess I was a little selfish today."

"Selfish?"

"I drug you along so that I wouldn't think about the competition." He said.

"Is that it?"

He looked down, "Well...you make me feel better about things, I guess." He grimaced, "When I doubt myself, you don't. I always feel like a completely different person when I talk to you, which is weird for me."

"I will never doubt you, Yuri." She smiled at him, "Don't forget, you're the one who saved me when I needed to be the most. When I didn't think I ever wanted to skate again, when I wanted to give up, your skating made me push those thoughts out of my mind. And I know I'm not the only one who wanted to skate again because of you. Your country and your fans are behind you no matter what, so never doubt yourself, not as a person, and especially not as a skater."

Out of all the times that Emmy cried, she never thought she'd see the day that Yuri did. Tears fell down his face, and he covered his eyes with his hands, "God damnit."

"Yuri, are you okay?" She asked.

"Yeah, yeah," He said, "I just..."

"Yuri?"

He wiped his face, "You're the only one who hasn't pressured me to win. I just want to skate without thinking about the entire country watching me. But I also want to prove to them that I'm not Viktor, that I'm better than him. It's hypocritical and complicated, and so many people are telling me that I have to win. And if I don't win, I'll always be in Viktor's shadow, even if he doesn't come back to our team. Why do I have to compete with that man even though he's not here anymore? Why can't I just skate as Yuri Plisetsky instead of Viktor Nikiforov's underling?"

"But Yuri," Emmy reached out to gently touch his arm, "maybe you're not quite as good as Viktor yet, but that's okay. Viktor has been skating a lot longer than you have, you have a long way to go to gain that experience, but you'll get there. Viktor didn't just wake up one day a good skater, he had years of practice. You've already proven that you have the talent to be greater than him, you just have to grow. Do you want to know what's holding you back? What's making you doubt yourself?"

His eyes widened, "What?"

She sighed, maybe it wasn't something she should tell him. Deciding that he needed to hear it, she said, "Your problem, is that you still see yourself as Viktor's second. Your fans, your true fans, already see Yuri Plisetsky on the ice, not Viktor's shadow. It's you who hasn't come out of it yet."

The wind blew his hair around his face as Yuri stared at her, tears still falling from his eyes. She was suddenly afraid that she'd said too much. She was just about to say something, when he muttered, "You're right."

"What?"

"You're right." He looked away, back up at the sky, "I guess I haven't seen myself as better than him. I say I do, but I really don't. I talk big on the ice, hell, even off of it, but when I'm alone I can't help but think that I'm not good enough of a skater."

"Stop that." She said sternly, "It's the night before we leave for the Grand Prix Final. A skater who isn't good enough to challenge Viktor's career wouldn't even make it to the Finals. Even if no one else in the world thought you were a good skater, I still would. You'd have one person, at least. Besides, what happened to, 'I'm going to wipe all those talentless pigs off the grid'?"

Finally he smiled, making her heart leap, and turned toward her, "You really are something." His eyes met hers with a look she couldn't place, almost like he was looking at something he found truly fascinating.

"Well I figured that if I can't use my legs, I might as well put my voice to good use." She grinned, "But seriously, Yuri, stop putting yourself down. Let go of Viktor and let yourself be free of him. And if someone tries to tell you that you won't be as good as him, I'll fight them."

"You'll fight them?" He laughed, wiping his nose, "How, exactly?

"Okay, so I'll run them over with my wheelchair, same thing." She shrugged, "That might hurt more anyway."

"Thanks, I feel better." He said, "Just hearing someone say something like that is reassuring."

"That's what I'm here for!" Emmy winked, "I'm kind of like a coach, so it's my job!"

"Emmy," He looked down at the floor, "you know those girls, the ones who said they were going to follow you around to see if you were good for me?"

"Yeah, even though we're not dating?"

His face was beet red as he said, "But what if we were?"

Emmy felt her stomach flip flop, and she knew her face turned about as red as his, "What?"

"Everyone already thinks we are, and..." He forced himself to look at her, "Emmy, I really like you, okay? Since the Rostelecom Cup, I can't stop thinking about you and the way that you made me feel. You don't care about my fame or status as a skater, you just care that I keep skating. I don't want to say goodbye to you when this whole thing is over. So, I want you to stay by my side, and I want to stay by yours...if you want."

She could only look at him open-mouthed for what seemed like a pretty long time, before finally saying, "I didn't know you felt that way."

He nodded, too afraid to say anything else.

Finally, she smiled, playing with the bottom of her jacket, "For so long, I looked up to you and I thought that just meeting you would be enough. But I was wrong. This whole time I've been trying to think of how I was going to tell you that I didn't want to say goodbye to you either."

"Then don't."

"Okay," She nodded, "then I won't."

Yuri grinned, releasing the breath he had been holding, and moved forward to pull her into a hug. She held him tightly, still in disbelief that Yuri Plisetsky had just asked her out. She, Emilia Hoffman, was now dating Yuri. Her first boyfriend. She vaguely wondered what Elise was going to say. Probably nothing because she'd be passed out on the floor in shock.

"We should probably start heading to Yakov's." Yuri said, letting her go.

She looked up at him, her cheeks still blushed, and nodded, "Yeah."

They walked in silence across St. Petersburg toward Yakov and Lilia's house. The two hadn't been together for ages, but the time they spent together training Yuri had rekindled their romance. So they had moved back in together and were now enjoying a happy life.

When they finally arrived, Mila was already there. She had earned her way into the women's singles category of the Grand Prix Final. Emmy figured it was a pep talk before leaving the next day. Yakov had dinner ready, and they all took a seat around the table.

"As you all know, we're leaving for the Grand Prix Final tomorrow." Yakov said, after each of them had a plate, "I want you all to know how greatly proud I am of each of you. Mila and Yuri, and you too, Emilia. I'll admit that the choreography you gave me for Yuri surprised me. I didn't have such high expectiations, you've proven me wrong. Yuri, I believe that you can win gold if you put your heart into it, and you too Mila. I want you to know, that whatever happens, I'm am proud of you both."

"Thanks, old man." Yuri said with a grin.

Mila elbowed him, "Thank you, Yakov. It means a lot."

"Lilia and I will be at your building to pick you up at four o'clock sharp. Our flight leaves at seven, so you need to be ready." Yakov took a bight of food, "By this time tomorrow, we'll be in Barcelona. Five days from now, Yuri will be performing his short program, six days Mila will be performing hers, and seven days, both of you will be performing your free skates. Try to get some sleep tonight."

They talked further around the table about things they could do in Barcelona. Yakov had given express permission to explore the city when not in practice. They also talked about meeting times and this and that. It was complicated to understand, so finally they just agreed to discuss it when they got there.

Finally, when the clock turned eight o'clock, Mila decided it would be a good time to head back. Yuri and Emmy agreed, and they said goodnight to Yakov and Lilia. As Yuri pushed Emmy down the walkway, Lilia called out to them, "Can I speak with Emilia for a moment?" She asked.

Emmy gulped, but Yuri put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She smiled up at him and said, "Sure."

Lilia waited for Yuri to be out of earshot before saying, "I visited Yuri's practice yesterday to see how atrocious his program was."

Emmy felt her stomach twist. She'd figured Lilia would be angry that she'd taken her spot as choreographer, but actually hearing the criticism from her was still hard. "Oh."

"To my surprise, the choreography that I saw wasn't atrocious. It was anything but." Lilia looked down at her with that stern face, but her tight lips quirked upwards, "I think what you managed to make was beautiful actually. I was angry that that boy disregarded me as his coach, but I see now why he did. You're a beautiful girl with a brilliant mind, I'm anxious to see how he stands in the finals."

"Thank you, that means a lot." Emmy said, "I'll be honest with you. I was afraid to see you tonight."

"Rightfully so." Lilia said, but winked, "I will see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight." Emmy said, and rolled herself to where Yuri was waiting with hands jammed into his pockets. He took them out to grip the handles of her wheelchair and asked, "Did she suck out your soul?"

"No actually," Emmy smiled, "she kind of gave me some inspiration."

"No kidding."

"Yuri?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you absolutely sure you want me to be your girlfriend?"

"I asked you out didn't I?"

"Yeah."

"I wouldn't ask you if I wasn't sure, dummy." He said quietly.

As if summoned from the depths of the darkness, Mila rose up out of the shadows with a look of pure mania on her face, "Did I just hear that right? Girlfriend?"

"You hag, where'd you come from?" Yuri asked, continuing on past Mila, who followed in step next to them.

"Are you going to tell me?" She asked, her voice growing higher and higher.

"Why, are you jealous because you don't have a boyfriend to get laid?"

"What are you implying, Yuri?"

"Shut the hell up."

"Congrats you guys!" She said, throwing her hands up into the air, "This trip is going to be so much more fun now that I don't have to listen to the both of you tell me how much you like the other but don't want to say!"

Emmy shot her a look, and she knew Yuri must have too, "Okay, Mila."

They arrived back at the apartments, and before Yuri could say goodnight, Emmy pulled him aside, "I have something for you."

"For me?"

"Yep." She lead him to her bedroom, where she pulled a box out from under her bed. She'd gotten it in the mail two days ago, really cutting it close, and had been dying to give it to him. She handed him the box and said, "Here."

"You didn't have to get me anything." He said, sitting down cross-legged on the floor.

"It's for the competition." Emmy watched him take the packing tape she'd put back on it after opening the package to see how they looked, "Not only is it a gift from me as your friend, but also as your choreographer."

He finally opened it, taking the cover off and shooing the tissue paper away. She smiled when his eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he pulled black skates out of the box. What was unique about them, was that the blade was a bright metallic crimson. He looked up at her in excitement, "They're like your multicolored blades."

She nodded, "Yep, I got in contact with my family friend who made mine and asked if he could possibly rush this for me. He said if they were for Yuri Plisetsky, he would gladly. And Yakov showed me your costume for the free skate, so I figured this would be sharp out there."

"I can't believe it." He grinned, putting them on his feet, "These are the best! Thanks Emmy!"

"I'm glad you like them." She said, "So make sure you pack them right away."

"There's no way I'd forget these." He stood up with one of them on his feet, turning to look at himself in the mirror on the back of Emmy's door. Finally he slipped them off of his feet, and said, "Well, I suppose I should get some sleep."

"Same. I'll see you in the morning." She said, "Goodnight, Yuri."

"Night Emmy." He said, after helping her into bed. With box tucked under his arm, he turned off the lights and closed the door. She pulled the blankets up to her nose and wiggled excitedly in bed. It had been the best day she could remember, even better than the day she'd first met him. She knew that if her parents could see her, they'd be proud, and that made her so happy.

Her phone on the nightstand next to the bed vibrated, and she looked at the screen. Yuri had texted her.

 _Thanks again for today, I needed to hear that._

She smiled at his name, _Of course, I'll always have your back!_

After a moment, another text came in, _I'll always have yours, too. I'm excited to see Barcelona with you, tomorrow. Night Emmy._

 _I'm excited to see it with you too!_ She couldn't stop smiling, even after she feel asleep. _Goodnight Yuri._

 _ **I sincerely hope this wasn't disappointing, because this chapter just didn't sit well with me, but I couldn't imagine it going any other way. I also wanted to apologize for this taking so long to get written, this semester has been crazy and I have other stories I'm trying to do as well.**_

 _ **To reply to DarthIllogical, you're right! I think I started this story one week before Otabek came into the picture! I, too, ship Otayuri, so I've also started an Otayuri fic called "Through it All". I'm a sucker for reviews, so I encourage you all to go check it out!**_

 _ **Also, I cranked this out just so I could give a Happy 16th Birthday shoutout to our beloved Russian Punk, Yuri Plisetsky! (It just turned midnight where I live, so happy March 1st!)**_

 _ **Anyway, thank you to everyone supporting me and this story, and all of the great comments and feedback I get. Stay tuned!**_

 _ **Until next time!**_


	8. Chapter 8

"Sweetie, look at me."

Emilia opened her eyes to look up into her mother's face. She was smiling, her dark hair pulled up into a tight bun. She could hear her father singing in the front seat, rolling her eyes at his off-pitch vocals. "Hmm?" She asked sleepily.

"I'm so proud of you for tonight," Her mother said, "Your father and I both are. No matter what, we will always be proud of you. Nothing could ever make us happier than watching you out on the ice. Always remember that we love you." Her mother looked away from her to gaze lovingly at her father, gently squeezing his arm.

"Well I couldn't do it without you." Emmy said, her eyelids drooping.

Her mother smiled, turning her head back to look down at where Emmy was lying in the back seat. She opened her mouth to say something, but suddenly a roaring noise, and then the sound of crunching metal snapped Emmy out of her sleepy haze. Glass rained down around her and she could feel herself being thrown around the car as it flipped over and over again. All the while, she could hear her mother screaming-

Emmy gasped awake, blinking in the darkness around her. The soft bed beneath her reminded her that she wasn't really in the back seat of her parent's car, but in her apartment in Russia. The thought soothed her, calming her shaking hands.

Remembering that she had to be awake early that morning to finally go to the Grand Prix Finals, she glanced at the clock next to her bed. It was only eleven o'clock, and she sighed in relief, pulling her legs up with her hands to curl into a little ball. She didn't know she was crying until her cheek touched the damp spot on her pillow and her nose was hard to breathe through.

The nightmares about her parents usually came when she was stressed out, but they'd never been as detailed as that one had been. She never heard what her parents were saying in any of her dreams, she could only see her mother's mouth moving, and she always woke before the actual accident. So why, why was it so detailed now? Now that she was finally looking forward to something, finally starting to be happy with her situation, why did the nightmares need to come as if they were trying to tell her she couldn't be.

Maybe that really was why. Maybe her fears were true, and her parents really were angry that she was trying to move on. They'd spent their last moments telling her how proud of her they were. The last thing they ever thought of was their love for her. So how proud could they really be now that she couldn't skate? All the time, hard work, and money they put into her career was for nothing. All she could do now was help other people get better with their skating while she sat on the sidelines.

And how could they be proud that she left her uncle in America to take care of all of her medical bills to chase a stupid dream? What would they think of her having gone to Russia? She gave the junior World Champion of skating a potentially gold medal-winning program without even giving it a second thought. Instead of trying harder to walk and skate again, to help her uncle, she went with Yuri because of her awe-struck desires. How selfish. All of her parents' dreams were dead because she had a crush on a superstar.

So how could they really be proud of her?

She reached out to grab her phone and read through her past messages from Yuri. The last one was from her earlier that night, _Good night Yuri._ The thought of him brought her comfort, but was that really okay? Was it normal to want to move on from something so tragic only months after it happened? Everyone told her that her parents would want her to be happy, but how could she be happy trying to live life without the people that were supposed to be there? Without knowing what they thought of her and her choices she was making.

 _Why are you still awake?_

The phone in her hand vibrated, and she saw Yuri's name pop up in the chat bubble on the side of her screen. She sniffed, wiping her eyes so she could see clearly, and typed, _How did you know I was awake?_

 _Messenger said you were active._ He responded instantly.

 _Can't sleep. You?_

 _Same, I'm too amped up. I could probably go for a run right now._

Emmy bit her lower lip, trying to plan her next words carefully. She didn't want to come across wrong to him. _Will you come here?_

He didn't respond right away, and she figured he must be trying to think of what to say. It was probably too rash of her to do, and she began to type out an apology when his grey chat bubble popped up, _Be right there._

Her heart was in her throat the entire time she waited for him to get there. When a soft knock tapped at her door, she didn't even answer before Yuri slipped inside. She turned the bedside lamp on, illuminating her room in a dull yellow light, and sat up to give him some room at the foot of her bed. He sat down at looked at her, his golden hair hanging in his eyes, and asked, "What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?" She asked halfheartedly.

"You wouldn't ask me to come here if something wasn't bothering you."

She looked down at her lap, "I…" She paused, not knowing what to say. It seemed like she was always crying to Yuri. For once, couldn't she be the strong one?

Yuri plopped down across the foot of her bed, throwing his arm over his eyes, "You don't have to tell me. You don't have to say anything if you don't want, I'll just lay here so you're not alone."

There it was. The reason why Emmy had truly fallen for Yuri. He never pushed her to say or do anything she didn't want. He supported and comforted her without needing to know all the details, and it really showed to her that he cared. He understood how she was feeling and did his best at cheering her up while keeping his boundaries.

Emmy laid back down against her pillows and scooted to the side closest to the wall, "At least come up here so you're not uncomfortable."

"Are you sure?" He asked, "You want me to lay next to you…in the same bed?"

"You don't have to if you don't want," She pulled her blankets up to cover her face in embarrassment, "I just thought it would be better than laying across the bed."

The mattress shifted as Yuri plopped down next to her on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Blowing his bangs off of his forehead, he looked at her out of the corner of his eye, "You sure you're okay?"

She nodded, keeping the blankets held up over her nose to hide her blushed cheeks, "Yeah. I had another nightmare."

"About your parents?"

"Yeah." She swallowed down the lump in her throat, "I'm so afraid that I'm not making them proud."

"You are," He said instantly, "Emmy, you're afraid you're not making them proud because you're not out on the ice yet, but look at you. You're going to the Grand Prix Finals, maybe not as a skater, but you're still going. Your work got you there, don't forget that. You're working on getting back out there, but you're still in your world. You're still around skating. That's enough to make them proud, I know it."

She rested her head against his shoulder, "I always say thank you to you, Yuri. I don't know how else to show you how much I appreciate you."

"You don't have to. I already know."

"I feel better now that you're here."

He looked back up at the ceiling before closing his eyes, "Good, now let's get some sleep."

She closed her eyes as well, trying to push the memories of her parents out of her mind. It didn't take long for her to notice the changes in Yuri's breathing as he fell asleep next to her, one of his arms thrown up over his head. Her eyes traveled down to his stomach, where his shirt was pulled up from having tossed his arm. Feeling her face turn an even brighter shade of red, she quickly threw a light blanket over him.

After a while, Emmy drifted off into an uneasy and restless sleep, going in and out of it until the alarm clock on her phone started going off. She'd needed the loudest, most annoying ringtone to get her to wake up, so she'd gone with what her uncle suggested and downloaded the John Cena ringtone. As soon as it went off, Yuri jumped nearly three feet in the air, startling Emmy despite the fact that she was looking directly at him, and shouted something very angry-sounding in Russian.

Emmy reached around him to dismiss the alarm and smiled sheepishly at him, "Sorry, but at least you're awake now."

"No thanks to the heart attack I just had." He muttered, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. He itched his chest and yawned, stretching his arm in the air and saying, "Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah," She said, and she really meant it, "thanks to you."

"Good," He turned his head to look back at her with a smile, "you'll need to be looking sharp to make all those other losers jealous that you weren't their choreographer."

"Are you sure I shouldn't look sharp for all your fangirls?" She asked with a wink.

His eyelids drooped, "Don't remind me. They'll be out in full force, so be on your toes. And Emmy," he looked away, "don't let them bother you. No matter what they say, I want you to be my girlfriend. Okay?"

"Okay," She said with a smile, "thank you, Yuri."

He stood up with a groan and stretched his arms again, moving toward the door. He paused for a moment and turned to look at her, "I'm going to get my stuff, need help getting out of bed?"

"Nope, I've got it. I'm really starting to get better with my legs." She swung them out of bed with only a little held from her hands, "You go get your things."

"Alright, then I'll be back in a little-"

His words were cut off as the door swung open, hitting him directly in the face. Mila strode into the room shouting, "Alright Emmy let's go, rise and shine! Time to…" She trailed off as Yuri pushed the door slowly away from him with a searing gaze. She covered her mouth with her hand as she saw him, saying, "Oh, Yuri, I didn't know you were there."

"Mila you cow!" He muttered, brushing past her, "I hope you break a leg."

"Yeah well I hope you choke on the surprise of me breaking a leg!" She called after him as he left their suite. After a moment, she turned to Emmy, nonchalantly tapping her fingers together, "So, Yuri was here."

"Yes I saw him." Emmy muttered, reaching for the outfit she had folded neatly on the chair next to her bed the night before. It consisted of a red t-shirt, black leggings, blue high-top converse, and her team jacket. Feeling comfortable enough to change in front of Mila, she stripped off her shirt to pulled the red t-shirt over her head.

"Did he just come to wake you up, or…" Mila cleared her throat, "Did he maybe…sleep over?..."

Emmy shot her a look, "You just never mind."

"Fine," She drug out the word, kneeling down to help her slip her shoes on after the leggings were successfully pulled up, "don't let me have my fun."

"You'll just post it on the fan pages."

Mila grinned, "Exactly!"

They gathered up Emmy's luggage, Mila doing most of the heavy lifting, and carried it out to the main room where Yakov and Yuri were already standing. Lilia was off to the side supervising the boys as they carried Mila's belongings out to the car.

Finally they all packed themselves in the big van Yakov used to bus all of the skaters around, and set off toward the airport. Emmy was still sleepy, and she could see that everyone else was feeling the same way.

When they arrived at the airport, Yuri wheeled Emmy inside as Yakov and the others took care of the luggage. They stopped at the airport coffee shop to get everyone some morning elixir and by the time they came back, Lilia had the plane tickets. They sat in the waiting lobby for about forty-five minutes before boarding the plane to Barcelona.

It was a relatively busy flight for being so early in the morning, but the skaters were lucky enough to get first class. Emmy looked around at the plush seats and cold drinks waiting for them, "Wow, I've never flown first class before."

Yuri sat down in a seat next to the window, kicking his feet up on the one across from him to fold his arms behind his head, "Nice, isn't it?"

She wheeled her chair next to him, "Yeah, super nice."

Mila sat across from Emmy, slumping down so that her jacket hid her mouth and nose, "Wake me up when we get to Barcelona."

"Won't you get too hot with your jacket on?" Emmy asked.

"I'm surprised she's not already with all that hot air in her head." Yuri said.

"Actually I am," Mila cracked an eye, "It's radiating over here from yours."

"Can it, hag!"

Yakov boarded soon after, giving them somewhat of a pep talk, but left them alone for the most part. It didn't take long for them to take off, and after they did, Yuri stayed silent for most of the time. It was a good thing Emmy had brought a book.

Mid way through the flight, Emmy felt a hand close over hers, which was resting on the armrest next to Yuri. She looked over to see his hand on top of hers, and then lifted her gaze to his face. He didn't look at her, only kept his gaze fixed out the window and the clouds below them, but she smiled anyway. He must have been really nervous.

Mila woke up when they were about an hour away, getting up to use the bathroom and came back with sodas for her and Emmy. Yuri arched an eyebrow and asked, "Where's mine?"

"Get your own." Mila answered.

"You got Emmy one."

"I know, how rude of you not to get one for her yourself Yuri. You're her boyfriend, not me."

Yuri looked at Emmy to back him up but she only grinned and shrugged, "She's right, Yuri."

He groaned, "She's rubbing off on you too much." And then stood up to go get himself a drink. On the way, Yakov stopped him to chat, and Mila leaned forward, "So, you and Yuri, huh?"

Emmy arched an eyebrow, "Yep?"

"Hah," Mila leaned back in her seat, making it bounce, "I remember when I first met him. I had a crush on him, did I ever tell you that?"

"No…" Emmy said, taking a sip of her drink.

"Yeah, but I'm three years older than him, so we couldn't date until at least our twenties or it would be weird, you know? So I got over it, but I promised that I wouldn't let just any girl date Yuri. She had to be someone he deserved." Mila explained.

Emmy gulped, where was this coming from? "So, am I?"

Mila winked, "You wouldn't be sitting here if I didn't approve of you. Why do you think I've been trying to set you guys up? I'm the one who started all this. If it weren't for me, Yuri never would have gone to America. So if you guys get married and I don't get to be the maid of honor, I'm going to be pissed, Emmy."

"Relax Mila," Emmy laughed, "We've been dating for two days."

"Yeah but, I can feel it," Mila smiled, her eyes sparkling, "you guys are meant for each other. You'll get married, trust me."

"What nonsense are you putting in her head now, mule?" Yuri asked, plopping down in his spot after breaking away from Yakov. He cracked his soda open, taking a long chug.

"Hopefully none." Mila said, looking at Emmy as she held a finger up to her lips.

The pilot announced that they would be landing soon, and as he did, Emmy could see the color in Yuri's face drain almost instantly. He wouldn't be skating for a few days yet, but she knew the pressure was already setting in. No. It had set in a long time ago. She'd seen that the day before when he'd shared with her how much he was actually afraid. She wanted to make him feel better, wanted to let him know he was going to be perfectly fine. She would be there next to him no matter what.

Eventually they landed, and were able to exit the plane. The security guards checked their passes as they came through, and they all journeyed to find their luggage. As they came through the last gate, a loud noise suddenly erupted and Emmy half thought the place was falling down.

Instead, when they rounded the corner, they found a large crowd of girls, and some guys, holding signs and screaming. Yuri groaned, but Mila and the others waved excitedly. Mila looked down at her and said, "Wave to the fans, Emmy, they go crazy over it."

Emmy looked at them. So these were the girls that had gone nuts over her and Yuri being together. She rose up her hand a waved, and some girls in the front row started shouting her name. Flashes went off, and she was vaguely aware that some of them were cooing over how cute it was that Yuri was pushing her wheelchair.

"Well that's it then." Yuri muttered.

She twisted to look up at him, "What's it?"

He sighed, "The Grand Prix Finals have officially begun."

 _ **Woooooow, it has been literally forever since I last updated! Holy mackerel! Sorry about that guys, I really am.**_

 _ **I honestly lost faith in this story for a very long time. I'm still shaky on it, and I don't really know why. I know exactly where I want it to go from here, but it's all those small details and events that have to happen before the good parts that trips me up. For a really long time I felt that everything I've written so far was complete trash, but I have moved on as best I can from there. I wanted to write this chapter to let you know that I'm still working on this story and that it's not dead yet!**_

 _ **I want to rewatch the GPF episodes of the show because I'm foggy on everything that happened before the actual competition. So I plan on doing that before I write another chapter. When my next update happens, I don't know. I'm super busy with college and work, way more than usual, so I just want to be honest and upfront with you.**_

 _ **Also, if anything is messed up, I'm sorry. I somehow have more words in my fanfiction upload than my word document.**_

 _ **I truly hope that you haven't given up on this story, but if you have I completely understand. I'm also going to be kind of selfish and ask for words of encouragement. I'm going through kind of a slump, so anything really would be much appreciated.**_

 _ **So, until next time, friends!**_


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